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2020-10-24
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2022-05-21
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It Started Out Badly

Summary:

“Hey! Those are mine!” Adrian said, and slapped the offending hand. The chip remained in the man’s hand and completed it’s journey up to lips that curved into a sardonic line. Adrian followed it all the way up, eyes outraged and lips parted.

“It was yours,” the uncouth man said smugly, “now it’s mine. Well, unless you want to come retrieve it?” The Belmont suggested with an edge of sensuality, as he popped it into this mouth and puckered in a slight kiss.

Really? You are going to steal my food and then mock me? Adrian thought with irritation. “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are, but you—” Unbelievably, that tanned hand reached out again for his chips. That was IT.

Chapter 1: Skip on by, keep on

Notes:

Oct 23-Promptober

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I don’t know Sypha,” Adrian said. “I’ve heard things about him and believe me, they are uh, interesting.”

His best friend leaned across the cafeteria table and grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “He’s hot Adrian. Unless you’ve heard that he’s a total asshole, as far as I am concerned, it’s alllll good.”

Adrian rolled his eyes, “Not everything is about muscles and dick you know.” When Sypha arched her brow, he had the grace to flush. “Okay, I have been known to enjoy viewing those things too, but that’s why I haven’t… you know! I want them attached to someone I can actually respect.”

Sypha wiggled her burnished brows and looked at him, “He’s tall, he’s hairy and he has a cool scar on his face. He even has a cool accent! Addy, he’s totally your type. Hell, he’s my type! In fact, fuck it, never mind, I am making a pass at him!”

Adrian clucked, “Well I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that so by all means.” But he was curious, “How tall?” Adrian was used to being the tallest one in the room and while he didn’t mind per say, sometimes it would nice not to stoop. Wearing his gorgeous boot collection had been impossible with any of the people he’d dated.

Slyly, Sypha picked up her bean and avocado burrito, tossed her hair and nudged her nose in the direction of the door behind him.

“Take a look for yourself,” she said smugly. Carefully, Adrian casually reached behind him and unhooked his messenger bag from the chair. Rummaging around in it, he nonchalantly looked up toward the door. He froze. Piercing blue eyes met Adrian’s golden ones and he felt a little thrill. The man standing in the door, and looking right at him, was hot. He was tall. And if Adrian wasn’t mistaken, he just reeked of asshole.

'The Belmont,' the other students in his drawing class had called him. It seemed to fit, as the man somehow dripped arrogance and a complete air of ‘I don’t give a shit.’ Adrian wasn’t sure how he did that; one suggested pride, and the other suggested utter indifference. The Belmont really didn’t fit into the tiny artist’s college. Everyone here cultivated their image carefully and this man clearly hadn’t looked in a mirror in a while.

Unshaved in at least a week, and probably unwashed for the same amount of time, it only added to the overall impression of bad boy. Unless Adrian was completely off his guess, he’d cut his brown hair with dull scissors and no mirror. It was annoying, because somehow it looked rugged and dangerous instead of hilarious.

If I tried to do that, I would have to leave town forever, he thought. Sure enough, Belmont had a faded, puckered scar over one eye that looked menacing, and completely lick-able. Whatever, you’re just weak for scars, he thought. Yeah, I am, they are so competent and real and I… stop it.

Scuffed, ancient boots that might have been tan at some point, with low-slung cargo pants tucked into them. Poorly sewn and mis-matched plaid patches replaced blown out knees. How did he make one of those cowboy rodeo shirts look good? He should look ridiculous. It was unbuttoned at the collar, and rolled up to his elbows.

Sypha was right, he was hairy, and it was gorgeous.

He was tanned, even though it was late spring, and Adrian wondered if he used a tanning bed. He discarded the idea as hilarious. This man couldn’t be bothered to wash, why would he tan?

Belmont had a three-tiered wallet chain that looked like it might kill someone if he used it. It was hanging off a leather belt so weathered and worn that it looked like it was clinging to his hips by prayer alone. Bizarrely, there were some intricate crosses dangling from it and the painter was pretty sure this man would burst into flames if he ever stepped into the campus chapel.

Adrian felt his mouth water and resisted it. He didn’t like assholes, and besides, it was clear Sypha liked him. He wouldn’t cockblock his bestie, never going to happen. Abruptly, he realized he was still staring and broke the glance. Turning back to Sypha, he said, “He looks like an asshole.”

“Yeah, right Adrian. You held your breath, don't think I didn't notice. More like you want him to fuck your as—” Sypha abruptly broke off, and her eyes widened.

Adrian could smell something nutty and slightly like a bakery. Actually, it sort of smelled like malted barley, something he was only familiar with because he’d designed the logo for a friend’s start-up brewery. He’d gotten a tour of the tiny set-up and a case of their IPA as thanks.

“What’s your name?” Came the low, rough voice. Sypha was looking behind him, and Adrian tensed.

Oh shit, it’s him, Adrian thought and realized he was holding his breath again. That was annoying, there was no reason to be like this for an unwashed cowboy. Gangster. Person. Thing.

He started to turn, and Belmont leaned over him to steal one of his French Onion Sunchips. Adrian was a little slow to react, because that great smell was overpowering now. It was edged in something like melting iron and leather. Wait, is he taking my chips?! What the fuck?!

“Hey! Those are mine!” Adrian said, and slapped the offending hand. The chip remained in the man’s hand and completed it’s journey up to lips that curved into a sardonic line. Adrian followed it all the way up, eyes outraged and lips parted.

“It was yours,” the uncouth man said smugly, “now it’s mine. Well, unless you want to come retrieve it?” The Belmont suggested with an edge of sensuality as he popped it into his mouth and puckered in a slight kiss.

Really? You are going to steal my food and then mock me?  Adrian thought with irritation.

“Listen, I don’t know who you think you are, but you—” Unbelievably, that tanned hand reached out again for his chips. “Seriously, stop!” Adrian growled, temper spiking. He wrapped one hand around that tanned wrist and squeezed.

People made the mistake of thinking he was a wimp because he was tall, slender and pretty. In high school he’d been cast as a woman twice in drama class. Those who decided to pick on him usually regretted it. Adrian never sought out conflict, but when it came to his door, he finished it.

The wrist flexed and moved slightly, as if testing his strength. Believe me, you don’t want to try it, Adrian thought. When Belmont stilled, he cautiously released him.

“Adrian, this is Trevor Bel—” Sypha started and quick as a snake, the Belmont snagged three chips from his plate. Adrian surged up and whirled, eyes blazing and his long blonde hair whipping out. Long and lean in his black, spiderweb leggings, black knee-high platform boots polished until they gleamed and loose black wrap tunic ironed and pressed just so, Adrian was pleased to discover he was still taller than Trevor. Maybe not as much as he would have liked, but enough to count. The man had no common sense whatsoever. He didn’t even look alarmed! He just stood, slouched to one side and munching on Adrian’s favorite chips.

“You will cease now, or I will…” Adrian hissed at him.

“No, you won’t,” Trevor said and smiled, “You don’t want to do that, and mess up that pretty hair. Trust me.”

“Listen, guys, I think you should just—” Sypha stood slowly and came around the corner of the table.

“Listen babe, you know I dig you, but I think your goth boyfriend and I need to work this out,” the Belmont drawled and Adrian was just done. Sypha was not Belmont’s babe and he was not a goth.

“Her name is Sypha,” Adrian hissed and barreled into Trevor. It was enormously satisfying to see the man’s eyes widen in surprise, but the realization he’d miscalculated came quickly after. Belmont was a lot sturdier than he looked and he didn’t go down.

So some of the stories might be true, he thought, and decided not to hold back. Just in case. He kicked at Belmont’s ankle and jabbed at his throat.

The man was fast, countering with his knee to block the kick and retorting with an elbow to Adrian’s chest. Pain bloomed in Adrian’s ribs but it just pissed him off. He landed a solid punch on a jaw that felt like granite and felt intense pleasure when blood leaked out of Trevor’s mouth. Dimly, he heard Sypha shouting and the general chaos of the cafeteria. Belatedly he remembered where they were.

I don’t want to be suspended for this piece of shit, Adrian thought and started to ease back. Then Belmont grabbed his hair and yanked hard enough that he saw stars and his teeth clacked.

“Really Belmont? Have you no pride? This isn’t an underground fight club,” he said, “have some dignity.” He was pleased to see a snarl of offense finally come over Trevor’s face.

So that was true, he thought, interesting.

“Be grateful it isn’t,” Belmont snarled, “or I wouldn’t hold back from smashing your face, pretty boy.”

Eyes narrowed; Adrian threw his good intentions to the wind. He wound his leg around Belmont’s and tripped him. They fell together and Adrian straddled his hips, one knee pinning Trevor’s arm, pushing one palm against his throat, and using his other hand to hold down Trevor’s remaining arm. He sat firmly, and pressed hard on the tanned throat under his palm.

“Apologize to Sypha!” Adrian commanded and Trevor’s brows shot up.

“Fuck you, Legs,” Trevor drawled, “I don’t apologize. Ever.” Adrian pressed harder, and Trevor’s breathing became labored. Trevor laughed, a short, cough of a thing, and Adrian felt something tickling his ribs. He looked down and Trevor had a small blade in his hand, pressed gently up against his ribs. It hooked around his thumb and speared out of his fist like a breaching shark. Adrian met his eyes.

“You are a fucking disgrace,” the blonde hissed to Trevor, and eased off of him. He stood up and gave Belmont his back, the ultimate show of his distain. Turning to Sypha and the crowd, he saw shock, fascination, excitement and horror. Sypha’s grin was completely inappropriate, and he couldn’t figure out why she was so happy.

With a sinking heart, he saw the blue uniforms of campus security hustling through the gathered crowd.That motherfucker has probably gotten me expelled, he thought.

Sypha turned to the crowd, stood on the table and cried, “Performance art in a flash mob! Thank you for joining us in the moment! Please, give a round of applause to our actors!”

Startled, Adrian looked at her and felt a sense of disbelief. There seemed to be a click in the crowd though and he saw acceptance and amusement ripple over the faces of those present. Trevor moved behind him. A moment later, a calloused, hot hand took his and he smelled sweat, a bakery and hot metal. “We’d best play along and bow, don’t you think?” the Belmont murmured to him.

“Get your hands off me!” Adrian hissed but it was too late, Trevor was already starting to bow. Irritated, but not wanting to blow this chance to not get reprimanded, he bowed too. People clapped and cheered and when he stood up, several of his classmates came over to clap him on his back and tell him how terrifying he was. By the time he turned back to Sypha, he’d calmed down enough to wonder what just happened to him. He never lost his temper like that but it was like Belmont had known exactly how to piss him off.

Speak of the Devil, he thought sourly, noting that the man had sat down beside Sypha, and was eating her whole wheat bun. What a fucking leech. They were laughing, and Adrian gritted his teeth. He didn’t have another class for twenty more minutes but he was seriously considering leaving for it early.

Taking a deep breath, he walked slowly back to the table. Sypha looked up at him and smiled. “So that was an introduction. Now that you two have got it out of your systems, can we actually finish the introductions?"

“This is Trevor Asshole Belmont, of those Belmonts, but unsurprising to everyone present, he delights in the poor history of his family. Disowned by the few remaining, he’s a nobody now. A scrubby underground fighter who paid his way to get in here by bleeding out his opponents. Apparently he decided one day that he was ‘an artist,’" Adrian used air quotations and heavy sarcasm to show what he thought of that, "because fraudulently producing the works of true talent wasn’t enough for the Belmonts!” Adrian scoffed. “I’ve also heard that he’s a pie-fucker, so there is that too.”

Sypha’s face was horrified and Trevor’s easy smile had dropped into flashing eyes and a furious sneer. Muscular threat, he stood.

“And you are Alucard Tepes, of those Tepes,” Belmont tossed back through gritted teeth, “who couldn’t cut it in his Daddy’s empire, so he ran away to trace flowers and write shitty poems. Who doesn’t have a job because he wouldn’t know how to actually work a day in his bloody life. A nobody because he’s pathetically entitled and talentless. Apparently, he thinks he can define what makes someone an ‘artist,’ probably because the only art he understands is what the gallery owners sell to him. Oops, sorry, Daddy buys it for you, doesn’t he?”

Sypha moaned unhappily, and put her head in her hands.

Adrian’s temper was a formidable thing and it was screaming at him right now. He took a step forward, fists clenched and said, “All you have is insults, nothing else!”

Belmont growled at him. Sypha stood quickly, and put a hand on Trevor’s chest. Belmont looked down at her and Adrian saw it. The glint of interest, the warmth and affection. Fucking hell, the man liked her back. The impudent, infuriating, rude, crass, vulgar piece of shit liked Sypha and now Adrian was fucked. There would be no escaping this horrible person. He was royally screwed by this whole situation, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Trevor, please stop, let’s not do this,” Sypha pleaded, and Adrian grabbed his bag, abandoning his lunch.

“Wait, Adrian, just—!” Sypha started to turn to him but Adrian didn’t stop, and his long legs carried him out of the lunchroom. Once he knew they couldn’t see him, he ran.

--- 

Keep it all in place
Work your way
Right into my case

First you try to bed me
You make my backbone slide
But when you found you bled me
Skip on by, keep on

Stroke me, stroke me
Give me the business all night long

-"The Stroke," Billy Squier

Notes:

The unresolved sexual tension is killing me.

Chapter 2: Clad in black, don't look back... and I love you

Summary:

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the painting, and turned toward it fully. Swearing, he approached it and sneered. It was Alucard, painted by someone named Maria Renard.

Maria had talent; she’d captured that snotty, superior air and haughty pride perfectly. She’d painted him in some sort of a costume; it looked like something out of the French Renaissance with an elaborate gold and black jacket. Tepes’ curled hair and other-worldly make up made him look like a movie star.

Maria had titled it, “The Prince.” How fitting, Trevor thought, baring his teeth at the portrait.

Little did he know, it was about to go from bad to worse.

Notes:

Oct 24 Promptober

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It burned, really burned to hear Alucard Tepes say he wasn’t an artist. That silver-spoon-sucking poser. Like he knew anything about art anyway! That had hurt, although he wasn’t about to admit it. He didn’t even know why it should have really.

Trevor had heard it constantly throughout his life. He’s been told that the art that he did wasn’t really ‘art.’ It was ‘industrial design,’ ‘shop craft’ and one classmate whose nose he bloodied at his previous university, had called it ‘garbage picking bullshit.’ Trevor called it sculpture and by God, so would everyone else by the time he was done.

It was one of the reasons he liked Sypha almost immediately. During introductions in the extended media class, Sypha had defined her idea of art as far outside narrow, mainstream conceptions that galleries and schools held. She challenged the rest of the class to exam their own bias, and ended her introduction with a warning that she better not hear belittling or else.

The woman had a daunting fearlessness and intelligence. He would have been a little intimidated if she wasn’t so kind and funny. But it was her sass that attracted him. It was rare to meet someone as clever and witty as Sypha was, and it made him wonder in what other capacities she might be clever. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to ask her out.

But fucking Alucard Tepes! Or Adrian? That’s what Sypha called him, but he knew him as Alucard. Well, the art world knew him as Alucard. The Tepes heir was making a name for himself with his delicate and disturbing oils. The piece that put him on the map was his midterm project in his sophomore year.

A flawless oil the size of a notebook, there’d been a whole spread on it in the student paper and it was even featured in Xpose. It had been a crown of thorns plant that had a tiny, perfect human skeletal and organ system inside it. Creepy, beautiful and somehow tragic, Trevor had been attracted to it. Just for a while. Now, well, yeah, whatever; it was over-hyped.

Of course, that asshole had to be her best friend! A junior, Alucard was somebody on campus, and obviously he knew it. Trevor wasn’t a freshman, but he might as well have been. He couldn’t afford this school last year and gone to an overcrowded, cheap, low-tier university for his first year. He’d suffered months of exhaustion, near starvation, and two jobs before he discovered the underground fighting.

It paid as much as the two jobs, but tissue damage, bruises, black eyes, broken bones and even a concussion were the price to finally get here. In the end, it’d been a combination of the fighting money Adrian had sneered at, the money he got from betting on himself, and a scholarship. In fact, it was the scholarship that ensured he would have enough to be able to come back next year or Trevor would have to take a break.

The irony of winning the Tepes scholarship wasn’t lost on him, and more than once he was incredibly grateful that there was the option to accept anonymously. It was one of the things about the scholarship that had drawn him. He didn’t want to be known for hand outs, and he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to who he was.

The Tepes family had been one of the groups badly burned by what the Belmont family had done. Trevor had even felt a little guilty when he’d deposited the six-figure award in his bank account and then just stared at the electronic screen until it prompted him to make a decision. He'd never seen so much money in his life. Not guilty enough to not accept it though, he thought resentfully.

The rest of what Alucard had said? Well, whatever, it was true, right down to the pie-fucker part. It'd been a performance piece and there'd been context, but whatever, he didn't care what people thought of that.

Even being called a nobody didn't bother him. He was nobody now, and an infamous one. He possessed a distinctive last name that was only a burden. Belmonts were outcasts in the art world, having created masterpieces under the names of the greats for over 200 years and selling them as originals through their art gallery.

All the Belmont children were artists. Eventually each and every one assumed the mantle of the business and its deep dark secret. It was a point of pride to the clan that even now, no one knew exactly how many Belmont forgeries hung in prestigious galleries around the world.

It all started to go wrong when Trevor refused to learn painting. It wasn’t something that interested him. It had taken years of perseverance, his incredible hard-headedness, outright stealing supplies and materials from the local scrap yard, and even one fist fight with his uncle to make his parents see reason. He’d been left alone to do his own thing until he was 16 years old.

That was when it was decided that he needed to start learning about the family business.Trevor had been horrified. As someone who deeply loved art for the act of creation, the idea of selling forgeries for something as pathetic as money was shameful to him. All it had taken was one stupid text to a friend saying he couldn’t believe what his family was doing, and it had blown up into the scandal of the century. If only Trevor had known that the Belmonts were in business with the mob.

Trevor was on a school trip for rugby when the gallery and the family home burned down. It was the same night that the story broke over international news. He lost everything in one fell swoop. What he didn’t lose then, he lost when the court seized all his family’s assets as proceeds of criminal activity. His extended family never forgave him. His birth family was dead.

Trevor always expected the mob to come after him, but they must have decided he wasn’t worth it. They would have been right. Trevor Belmont became a penniless orphan before his 17th birthday. The things Trevor had done to survive were not pretty, and they were a part of himself that he did not share with anyone.

It was this history that made him sign and display his works under an alias. Christopher Wise wasn’t Trevor Belmont. It was Trevor’s middle name and the meaning of his first, but Christopher was his own man, free of the legacy of the Belmonts, the shame of Trevor and the grief of an angry child whose disillusionment cost him everything.

Christopher’s art could be accepted, successful, and legitimate in a world that would only ever see the name Belmont as synonymous with forgery. So far it was working. Trevor had been able to present his pieces in class without an issue, and display them under his alias in other cities.

This is why you should avoid Sypha and her jack-ass best friend, Trevor thought to himself as he headed across campus towards his drawing class. He scowled. He didn’t want to avoid Sypha. He liked her and he wanted to get her to come back to his apartment, and see if she was as energetic, sassy and fun in bed as she was in person.

You should let her go. I don't want to! There are lots of things you are doing that you don’t want to, he told himself, like this class.

He stepped into the stone building that echoed with excited voices. Trevor had never been in here before because he’d had no intention of ever taking a drawing or painting class. He didn’t have to at the other school but here, the beginner classes were required. You could either take drawing or painting, and Trevor would be damned if he took painting.

At least with drawing he could use it to sketch his ideas. Idly he looked around and checked the paper in his pocket. He was late registering to this class, and didn’t know where he was going.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the painting, and turned toward it fully. Swearing, he approached it and sneered. It was Alucard, painted by someone named Maria Renard. Maria had talent; she’d captured that snotty, superior air and haughty pride perfectly.

She’d painted him in some sort of a costume; it looked like something out of the French Renaissance with an elaborate gold and black jacket. Tepes’ curled hair and other-worldly make up made him look like a movie star. Maria had titled it, “The Prince.”

How fucking fitting, Trevor thought, baring his teeth at the portrait.

From the Xpose piece last year, he’d known that Tepes was a looker. Truth be told, he’d been attracted to the exotic old-soul eyes, and generous, flowing hair immediately. The painter's cheekbones, full lips and lovely jaw was just perfection on top of fascination.

Trevor might have had some thoughts about the man during a few personal moments since. He might have cut out the photos from the article for his fridge in the apartment. He might have been looking forward to seeing that hot ass on campus.

When he’d discovered Sypha knew Tepes, it seemed almost unfair. Trevor had already been into her at that point, and then to know she had a hot friend too; that was just cruel. Sypha had described a completely different man than the one Trevor had encountered. A sexy, enjoyable, gifted and thoughtful one.

Trevor had been intrigued from her description, and had been looking forward to meeting him. Maybe one day, thanking him for the scholarship his family provided to get Trevor into this school, even if it was in a round-about way.

Looking around, Trevor located a map and checked where his classroom was. Following the signs he located the stairs and took them two at a time. He didn’t want to be late. Trevor had missed two classes already, and snuck in a day before registration closed.

His advisor suggested to him that he get this out of the way this semester. She’d had a point about it being a lighter load than he’d expected this term and having the time. He did have more time right now and if he was going to be challenged, it would be better it wasn't at the same time as his junior sculpture classes.

The lighter load had a lot to do with the fact he wasn’t working and he wasn’t fighting. Trevor had given himself that. He was living very frugally as a result, but it was working for him. He was more present, happier and more creative this term. Besides, he was used to going without. The local thrift store kept him clothed, his materials were reasonably cheap, and he was very good at making meals out of discounted bread and cans of beans.

Maybe that’s why I stole Alucard’s chips, he reflected. It had been at least three months since he’d had anything remotely like chips, and he loved Sunchips. They were a favorite.

It’s not my fault, he thought crossly, as he came to the landing and strode down the hall, his wallet chains rattling with every step. Sypha had told him Adrian was really generous and kind, with a great sense of humor. How was he supposed to know he'd be willing to fight over four fucking chips?!

When Trevor had come to the cafeteria door and seen Sypha, he’d known whose long blonde hair that was. Whose high boots, and shapely, mile-long legs those were. When the blonde turned to look at him, there’d been awareness and shock there. Trevor had felt something pass between them and for a moment, he thought it might be desire.

Then judgement, in its ugly reality, had filled those lovely golden eyes.

He thinks I am trash, Trevor had thought. What he’d seen in Alucard’s face hadn’t been welcoming or kind, and when he’d slapped Trevor’s hand like an errant servant, well, it hadn’t hit the right button with the sculptor. Trevor had dug in and been belligerent.

Not without good reason, he thought sourly.

When Tepes had spoken in that lilting voice, he’d heard the derision. When he’d listed all of Belmont’s history with dripping scorn, Belmont had been sure. He’d wished he had gotten in a couple more punches. Trevor would have, he was sure, if he hadn’t been so distracted by the painter's agility, strength and, well, beauty. He was unfairly, and annoyingly appealing.

It didn’t matter though, because when Trevor got back to his shoddy apartment that night, the Xpose pictures were in the trash and Alucard had been banished from his fantasies. The Tepes heir was a total bastard. "A total bastard," he muttered to himself and pushed open the door to the studio.

"Trevor Belmont," Alucard Tepes said, displeasure heavy in his voice, "I think you are lost."

Trevor's head snapped up and he stared at the man he'd vowed to never speak to again. All in black once more, Trevor registered numbly, and it looks great.

Soft linen pants paired with a black silk blouse, Trevor noted three buttons undone and a hairless, muscular chest. Yet another pair of mirror-polished black boots. Blonde hair tumbled over slender, strong shoulders and Alucard had a trio of tiny gold chains draped on his pale chest. They matched his eyes perfectly.

Probably real gold too, Trevor thought with annoyance.

He sneered, and leaned against the doorframe. "Alucard Tepes, how wonderful of you to grace the lowly first graders with your esteemed presence. I am not lost, but you must be. Were you looking for an ego boost, or just wanted to see what real effort looked like?"

One pale blonde eyebrow arched to him. "Everyone, please met Trevor Belmont. His ego really is that enormous and undeserved. Trevor, perhaps you would like to explain what you are doing in my drawing class?" 

Trevor felt real alarm spike hard in his belly. "This isn't your drawing class, this is," he pulled out his paper, "M. Shaft's drawing class. Intro to Drawing, says right here." He looked up and saw surprise in Alucard's face.

Well at least it isn't just me, he thought unhappily.

"When did you register?" Tepes asked him slowly, and Trevor suddenly knew, Alucard wasn't kidding. This was his class. And the chance to drop with a full refund had passed three hours ago. He was fucked.

--- 

Well you're dirty and sweet
Clad in black, don't look back and I love you
You're dirty and sweet, oh yeah
Well you're slim and you're weak
You've got the teeth of the hydra upon you
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on

-"Get It On (Bang a Gong)," T. Rex

Notes:

I'm kinda in love with this universe and I might hang out in it a little bit longer. Hope that's okay with everyone!
===
Artwork of Alucard property of Konami and all rights are retained by them.
Thanks to Jatinder Kuma for the photo of 'Trevor' and @scottywebb (Twitter) for the stunning metalwork photo.

Chapter 3: Leave me dancing with myself

Summary:

It had taken everything in Adrian not come over and see what Belmont had been doing. It was uncomfortable to feel like an outsider in his own classroom, but he had. Intentionally or not, Belmont had picked a spot that was just far enough out of the cluster that Adrian couldn’t walk behind him.

Well he could have, but it would have been obvious that the TA was specifically there to look at his work. Usually Adrian could just cruise quietly and assist his students with murmured suggestions or just watch them work, but he hadn’t been able to with Trevor.

Unable to observe as he normally would, he’d been braced for more snide comments or disruption, only to be taken aback when none had been forthcoming. His confusion had given way to curiosity and finally enchantment. Watching Trevor work was fascinating and beautiful.

It was utterly annoying.

Notes:

Oct 25-Cross

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He eyed Belmont out of the corner of his eye and tried once again to calm his nerves. What had he done to the universe to deserve this?! The drawing class was his sanctuary. It was fun, rewarding, renewing and fulfilling. All the other TA’s had avoided it like the plague because anyone could enroll in it, including other majors. It was nicknamed the ‘Sesame Street Class,’ because of it.

It was true that you would get a tapestry of experience and interest, but that was what Adrian loved about it.

He truly believed that everyone was an artist in some capacity or another. Every single student he’d ever taught had given him something. He’s seen dozens of perspectives on the world, applications of color, texture, tone, paradigms, lighting, process—even in the movement of the artist’s hands. Everything a person did had an art to it, you just needed to be open to it.

It was something he’d noticed in his life from an early age. The graceful way his mother moved, the poignant pauses in his father’s speech, the crisp edges to every piece of fabric in the house that Eva, their maid, seemed to instinctively create. The natural inclination of people to mow their lawns in patterns, the way the wind moved through the trees, the destructive design of a hurricane against manmade constructs.

Art was everywhere, if you took the time to see it.

Well, almost everywhere, he thought bitterly, as he looked over at Belmont.

This tall, solid and surly man was destroying his calm. As his eyes slid over Trevor’s, it was obvious Belmont knew it too. It had been abundantly clear almost immediately that Belmont wasn’t going to drop the class. Adrian had fully expected him to turn around and leave when the blonde had explained that yes, this was M. Shaft’s class, but Adrian was the TA.

Belmont’s eyes had burned, but to the blonde’s utter shock and disconcertion, he’d taken a seat at the back of the class. And proceeded to stare a hole into Adrian’s head.

Adrian had not wanted to get into the fact that he wasn’t suppose to be doing the bulk of the teaching. It was best that no one know that. Shaft hated this class and made no secret of the fact he thought he was better than it. Adrian had quietly taken over since the third class he ever attended, two semesters ago. Shaft had rubber-stamped everything since.

Technically, a student would have grounds to complain about their mark, or the teaching quality, if they knew. He’d never worried about that. It wasn’t that he liked everyone who came through the door, but he’d always given every student his best.

Well, I never worried about it until now, he thought uneasily. Trevor was the kind of asshole that would make trouble and email Shaft with complaints. Belmont had clearly been unhappy about the painter’s presence and it could not be more obvious that he resented being here.

It’s not like you weren’t obvious you didn’t want him here either, he thought. So why was he still here?

At least stop glowering, Adrian thought with exasperation as he went to draw the blinds.

He felt the curiosity and concern from the rest of his students, the majority of whom were giving him the side eye as he calmly discussed lighting. He turned the spotlights on the still life display, and reminded his class that this was the last in-class opportunity to complete the drapery piece. It was due next week but the studio would be available afterhours.

Adrian pointed to the folds at the base of the vase, and indicated the weight of the foot and how it made the folds more angular. Several of the students had struggled with this last week and he wanted the corrections to be successful.

“Any questions?” He asked and Nathan spoke up.

“Adrian, how would we correct the light source if it’s wrong?” The man turned his easel board toward the TA. “I’m looking at the shading I did last week and I don’t know how I did it, but I have three light sources here, not two.”

Nathan Graves was a leatherworker and had a fascinating way of viewing drawing. Adrian was always amazed at the tangible weight of his drawings, as though everything was made out of carved stone. His drapery lacked any sense of lightness or delicacy to it, and unfortunately, Nathan was right. His light source in this was a mess.

“Anyone else concerned by the light source, please join Nathan and I on the right for a five-minute consult.” Adrian knew that Hugh Baldwin would be joining them too. The two men had grown up together and it seemed that they shared some of the same struggles with drawing.

As there were no other questions, he went over to the stereo and turned on the music. He took the opportunity to sneak a glance at Belmont when he turned back to the room. The sculptor had opened up his duffel and pulled out a roll of contractor’s paper. With two industrial clamps, he tethered it to the side of the easel and placed a flat piece of metal between them.

It was brilliant. Belmont could roll and unroll as needed and his work would be far more protected from smears and wearing than it would be in a sketchbook or portfolio. Furthermore, it was far more compact. Adrian had never seen anything like this, and immediately appreciated the ingenuity of it while simultaneously resenting that it came from Belmont.

The row of pencils, charcoal and graphite he laid out looked well-used. Between the paper set-up and the supplies, Trevor Belmont knew what he was doing. With a sinking heart, Adrian came to the conclusion that this was why he didn’t drop the class. He already knew he’d pass it.

There was nothing Adrian could teach him.

---

Trevor had no fucking clue what he was doing.

He refused to be embarrassed by the roll of contractor’s paper he was using because he couldn’t and wouldn’t pay the equivalent of a week’s worth of groceries for the recommended sketchbook. He’d taken the measurements of the sketchbook and bought five times the amount of paper from the Restore for a sixteenth of the price of the sketchbook. It’d been a simple thing to cut it to the height of the sketchbook in his studio. Furthermore, he didn’t have to buy a bulky portfolio that he would have to haul around campus, and would never use after this class.

He took a deep breath, and pulled out the second-hand set of drawing supplies he’d bought off one of his sculpture classmates who’d taken drawing last year. It’d been cheap, and he figured if she’d only used half of the supplies, then he’d have enough for the class with the half that was left. He laid them out in a careful row and tried to surreptitiously see what looked similar to what the guy next to him was using.

Trevor had only every sketched with a ballpoint pen or the occasional pencil. Once, a piece of wood with a nail in it, but that had been on the side of his teacher’s car and the cock and balls could hardly be termed ‘art.’ Still, it’d been intensely satisfying and he’d been proud of his attention to detail for the full week that asshole had to drive around with it on his car.

Trevor could feel Alucard’s gaze and tried to will it away. He’d done his best to stare the TA down, but with every passing minute of Tepes’ instructions he’d felt more and more unsettled. He thought the man was a painter, not a drawer. What the fuck was he doing teaching a drawing class! The painter was entirely too confident in his instructions on the lighting, and the explanations of the drapery folds.

Alright, it had been beautiful in its way, he thought. For a moment, he could see the still life through Alucard and it’d become a magical stage of light and shadow, instead of an old sheet draped over some wood blocks with a vase and a half-molting stuffed rabbit.

With the lights out, Alucard had become a voice in the shadows. It was almost absurd how gorgeous the man’s voice was. Dulcet, sensuous, pouring out into the darkness like mulled wine and spice or an invitation into a bedroom of incense and candlelight; it was steeped in generosity.

You aren’t interested, Trevor had told himself, the man is a conceited rich boy who wouldn’t know work if it bit him on his ass.

If you aren’t interested, then it shouldn’t hurt to close your eyes and just listen to that voice pour over you.

It was unfortunate that he chose this moment to put his coat in his duffle, right as Alucard bent over the ‘three light sources’ guy’s work.

Wow, Trevor thought, eyebrows to the roof. That’s…yeah. Trevor had seen his share of asses, but he can’t remember ever seeing one quite that cute on a man before. Alucard was muscular but slender. He didn’t have mega junk in his trunk, but he definitely had one of those VW bug trunks happening and it was totally sexy.

No, not sexy, just surprising. I mean, I would have thought he’d had clenched it in righteous disapproval until it was non-existent. I’m just…surprised.

Well, not entirely. He’d been trying not to think about how strong but supple Adrian had felt when he’d straddled him.

This would be why, he thought as he snapped his eyes back to his blank paper, and thought really hard about whether he would try charcoal, or stick to the safety of his pencil.

Trevor listened to Tepes’ murmured instructions about what to look for in the shadows and how to pick out the tones. There was warmth, understanding and care in his voice and, although Trevor listened for it, there was no scorn. He had to admit, Trevor would have lost patience with Nathan’s questions by now but Adrian just answered them, somehow finding yet another way to explain looking at the light.

For the first time, he could start to understand why Sypha liked him.

Without even really realizing it, he started to sketch. Trevor found himself drawn into the play of the warmth and the cool. The quiet peace between the contrasting spirits comprising the image. Finding the balance between them was the key. It wasn’t so different from constructing a sculpture really. You needed to look past the image and into the spaces between. It was those spaces that gave the life to your piece.

The deep crevices of the drape begged him for the texture of the graphite and he switched.

Originally, he’d scoffed at the music that Alucard had put on. It was something arty and weird, the female voice somewhere between singing, speaking and electronically manipulated. He’d gritted his teeth and actively tried to ignore it. When he created art, he liked loud, heavy music, pounding beat and ample energy. Now he found himself falling into the music.

The pacing was slow and haunting almost like fingers trailing over his skin and igniting waterfalls of sensation under it. He used it, pulling that lingering depth into the artwork.

It was an unwelcome surprise then, when the music faded and then the heavy curtain covering the window started rising. “What the fuck!” Belmont growled out, and snapped his head up. He did not welcome interruptions to his work, ever. He had been known for yelling and throwing things at his hapless family members when they’d been sent to retrieve him for supper.

Alucard paused and everyone turned to Trevor with expressions ranging from amusement to alarm. “Welcome back Belmont; you were in the zone as it were.” Alucard’s tone was dry as the desert. “Class is done in five minutes, please clean up your items and stow your attitude. Thank you.”

“Damn it, is there another class after this? Anyone in the space?” Trevor pressed. He wanted to get this done, and the flow was all here. Another thirty and he’d have it done. It was due next week and he didn’t have another class for two hours. He could even turn on the same music, if Alucard left it in the stereo.

He’d be damned if he would ask him to though.

Alucard turned back slowly and looked at him. Silhouetted against the bright light, the otherworldly and exotic air was heightened. The TA looked like something out of a Renaissance painting; golden, mysterious and serene.

Tepes was stunning and Trevor hated it. It just complicated everything and was his cross to bear. The man hated him, thought he was trash and lumped him in with his family of forgers. The painter had told him he was a nobody, that he delighted in the shitty legacy of his family, and worse, that he wasn’t an artist. Trevor tried to remind himself he didn’t give a shit about any of that.

---

Trevor was serious. Adrian could see it in his piercing blue eyes, the knit of his eyebrows and the slightly resentful firming of his lips. He wanted to stay and finish his piece. Not for the first time in the last two hours, the TA felt cleanly torn.

What to do? he wondered.

It had taken everything in Adrian not come over and see what Belmont had been doing. It was uncomfortable to feel like an outsider in his own classroom, but he had.

Intentionally or not, Belmont had picked a spot that was just far enough out of the cluster that Adrian couldn’t walk behind him. Well he could have, but it would have been obvious that the TA was specifically there to look at his work. Usually Adrian could just cruise quietly and assist his students with murmured suggestions or simply watch them work, but he hadn’t been able to with Trevor.

Unable to observe as he normally would, he’d been braced for more snide comments or disruption, only to be taken aback when none had been forthcoming. His confusion had given way to curiosity and finally enchantment. Watching Trevor work was fascinating and beautiful. It was utterly annoying.

The man looked like Zeus shaping the skies; all thunderous brows, muscles rippling in his arms and shoulders and the occasional hard rake through his hair. He was completely absorbed in his work and it was obvious. Poor Hugh had dropped his tin of charcoal and the clatter had disrupted everyone but Belmont.

I wonder if he’s that focused in bed, Adrian had wondered and immediately thought, Belmont is awful, don’t think that. He called you talentless and entitled. He said you traced flowers! Why would you even think…

Belmont leaned back to look at his piece, stretched his arms up and absently scratched his head. His t-shirt had hiked past his bellybutton and his abs danced lazily. 

That’s why, his brain had told him happily. Would you look at that? Let’s drool.

Adrian had snapped his jaw shut before he did just that. He was eternally grateful that his small whoosh of breath had been covered by the music. Why couldn’t he be built like he worked out in a gym? Adrian had thought desperately.

He hated that over-chiseled look and it would have been so convenient if that had been Belmont’s physique. Instead, Trevor Belmont was built like a farmer or a ship builder; all solid, compact strength with a generous toss of rich brown hair down his torso.

This was ridiculous. I am not attracted to Neanderthals with terrible manners and poor hygiene, he told himself, as he grabbed his sketchbook and made a rough drawing of Trevor as he stretched.

I am not attracted, he told himself again as he started to walk around the classroom and found his gaze drifting back to a side profile of a mad alchemist working feverishly.

I am not attracted, he told himself now as he looked at the thunderous brow, carelessly hacked hair that should look dumb and instead looked like an artful tumble.

Adrian sighed. “Stay after class Belmont, we should chat.”

Ugh, fine, he thought, and added, "Please."

--- 

But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself
So let's sink another drink
'Cause it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance, I'd ask the world to dance
And I'll be dancing with myself

-"Dancing With Myself," Billy Idol

Notes:

I believe this will be six chapters in total but I am leaving the "?" because apparently Adrian and Trevor have a lot to say about each other. Shocking. Fortunately for these two bebes, Sypha has plans. Bless her.

Chapter 4: But sometimes I wonder as I look in your eyes

Summary:

Adrian had told her about how he was holding out for the right person. That conversation had tested her intention to be respectful of his boundaries. Had it ever, she thought now, climbing the stairs to the drawing room. Thinking it might help her unrequited love and Adrian’s feelings of self-worth, she’d kept an eye out for someone suitable. Which led her to Trevor Belmont. Hopefully, right to his bed, she thought with a sly grin.

She would love to jump that sexy beast; he was cagey, gorgeous, funny and arrogant. Surprisingly sweet and thoughtful too, she’d discovered, after he apologized for the scene with Adrian. In short, he was hot and she wanted to test drive the shit out of him. The problem was that he and Adrian seemed to hate each other. Nothing I can’t fix with the right plan and the right attitude, she thought.

She wasn’t willing to give up either man. She loved Adrian deeply, he was very important to her. Unless she was mistaken, she could see her friendship with Belmont evolving into something long term too. I will have both in my life, she thought. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob to the art studio.

Notes:

Oct 26-Promptober

 

Please click on the links to look at these two artworks because they are stunning and deserve all the love!!:

 

This drawing of Trevor is so perfect I literally cried. Look at his contractor's paper! His crosses and chains! His rodeo shirt! GAHHHHHH!! Everything is awesome!

Last night I realized I totally, subconsciously, wrote this version of Adrian after seeing Sad's incredible work!! Not a surpise that an Alucard this beautiful would burrow into my brain and insist on some words!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha was excited for the chance to finish up her drawing of Adrian. This was her last required class for drawing and she was ready to be done. Thanks to her best friend, she had an appreciation for everything that went into the process now, but it would never be her medium.

Sypha lived for digital art and that would always be where her heart and her talent lay. The process of creation in a digital environment was like magic to her, a conversation with the universe of collective minds inside her computer. When she could conjure pure magic out of herself and cast it into the cosmos of the digital world, there was nothing better. It was enchanting and intoxicating.

She would miss the opportunities to get Adrian down to his briefs though. The man was an artwork of his own; a masterpiece of genetics and the literal come of the angels.

Damn was he ever, I would just like to bite him right on that colla— Stop it, she thought, feeling guilty. That’s not fair to him.

Sypha had been attracted to Adrian right from the start, but he’s always been oblivious. Normally she was up front with those she desired, but he was different. When she’d first laid eyes on him in their class, he seemed so untouchable and ethereal. Translation, way the fuck outta my league, she thought, and mounted the steps to the building.

They’d been paired up in the class, and by the time the joint project was done, they were friendly. When Adrian walked her back from a party where she’d had too much to drink two weeks later, politely extricated himself from her horrible come-ons without shaming her, and easily accepted her jokes about it the next day, they crossed the line into friendship. And Sypha had tucked her unrequited attraction away.

Adrian had never given her any reason to believe he would be interested in changing their relationship, or that her desire might be returned. Most of the time she could even let her ever-present longing for him fade into the background, but when she was drawing him it was hard to. He was just so damn beautiful, and she was concentrating on all that perfection.

They traded off modeling for each other because the cost of models was so high. Every once in a while, they would pool in for one with a group but that was hard. You had to agree on the pose and the model had to be okay with a shared fee.

When he’d first asked her to trade modelling, shy but hopeful; she’d practically panted with anticipation.

And I had not been wrong, she thought, remembering the first time she’d seen all that lovely skin, long limbs and flowing hair under the spotlights. But there’d been nothing there for him and it’d been painfully obvious.

Not nothing, she corrected, he loves me very much. Just as a friend.

She could pinpoint the moment in their relationship that they’d moved to best friend status. She’d had a class with Adrian and they usually went for a picnic after so they could discuss the classmate with the purple hair that they both thought was hoooot and gossip about the moron in third row. That day, as they exited the building, a long black limo was idling at the curb and Adrian had sworn under his breath.

“What is it?” Sypha asked Adrian, eyes snapping back to him from the high sheen of the dick-compensating limo. It was shiny, long and sleek and seemed to scream: look at my penis! Sypha was looking. She liked cars, and this one was no exception.

Her friend sighed; an unhappy sound, and firmed his mouth. “That limo is here for me.”

Sypha laughed and then stopped, looking at Adrian’s resigned face. “Holy shit, for real? Why?”

A small smile played around his pale, full lips and Sypha ignored the answering flutter in her belly. She loved when he looked at her like that.

“You know, I don’t think I ever mentioned the fact that I love that you had no idea who I was when we met?” The smile expanded and his dimples winked. “That it didn’t matter to you then and it seems like you’ve always forgotten it when it comes up? I adore it. It makes me hopeful I can just be me to everyone else some day.”

The sound of a car door opening broke the spell and they both turned. A nonsensically tall man with a regal and elegant bearing emerged from the vehicle as though he’d just formed from it instead of climbing out.

He was a looker; if you went for tall, dark and handsome, Sypha thought. The man’s full suit and Inverness cape made him look like he was on his way to an opera. It should have been silly and instead it just seemed right.

“Adrian,” the man said, a note of delight in his voice.

I know him from somewhere, Sypha thought absently.

“Father, how good of you to come see me,” Adrian said, and strode down the steps to embrace him. Sypha gasped.

Oh shit, of course! Her eyes widened. This is Vlad Dracula Tepes! I’m such a dumbass, holy hell. Adrian was right. She never remembered this was his father. Probably because Adrian’s coloring was the complete opposite of Vlad’s.

Supposedly, the blonde looked more like his mother in that regard, but at the time Sypha hadn’t looked her up yet. But if you looked at Vlad and Adrian together, you could see the resemblance in the height, build and especially the smile. Actually, Adrian’s penchant for black, flowing clothing seemed to be inherited too.

“Father, I would like you to meet Sypha Belnades,” Adrian turned to her and held out his hand. “An extraordinarily gifted artist and my best friend.”

Best friend? Sypha had thought, touched, warmed and honored. She’d just let it go in the moment but at the earliest opportunity she commented how lucky she was to have a best friend like Adrian to Vlad and the two men had smiled.

After that, it was just natural between them and their friendship had opened up. Sypha had shared her anxiety over pleasing her parents but wanting to follow her heart. How their inability to understand her, hurt her sometimes.

Adrian had explained his love for his father and his frustration at Vlad’s over-protectiveness. Vlad’s belief that Adrian’s art was wonderful but unpragmatic and how belittling it felt, even when he knew his father didn’t mean it to be.

Sypha had talked about her sexual conquests and Adrian had told her about how he was holding out for the right person. That conversation had tested her intention to be respectful of his boundaries.

Had it ever, she thought now, climbing the stairs to the drawing room. Thinking it might help her unrequited love and Adrian’s feelings of self-worth, she’d kept an eye out for someone suitable. Which led her to Trevor Belmont.

Hopefully right to his bed, she thought with a sly grin. She would love to jump that sexy beast; he was cagey, gorgeous, funny and arrogant. Surprisingly sweet and thoughtful too, she’d discovered, after he apologized for the scene with Adrian.

In short, he was hot and she wanted to test drive the shit out of him. The problem was that he and Adrian seemed to hate each other.

Nothing I can’t fix with the right plan and the right attitude, she thought.

She wasn’t willing to give up either man. She loved Adrian deeply, he was very important to her. Unless she was mistaken, she could see her friendship with Belmont evolving into something long term too.

I will have both in my life, she thought, and rehearsed the things she wanted to say to Adrian on just this matter. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob to the art studio.

---

Trevor waited. Alucard waved the last student off with an easy smile and then turned back to the still life. He stared at it for a moment, and Trevor wondered if the TA had forgotten he was there. One long hand played with the gold chains lovingly nestled on his chest.

Then, with a deep breath, Alucard turned to him. “Why are you taking this class?” Alucard asked him, and Trevor tensed. At least the painter’s tone had been respectful.

“Because I have to; believe me, I don’t want to be here either,” he responded in a short, clipped voice. He kept his hand draped over the top of the easel, eyes on that long frame sheathed in black.

“Is there another class you could transfer to?” Alucard asked, practically pleading. Trevor almost felt bad but then reminded himself that this brat always got what he wanted. He shook his head and Alucard’s face became even sadder.

Probably the first time he’s ever heard ‘no,’ the sculptor thought and hardened his heart. If Trevor had to suffer, Alucard did too.

“Could you drop it, and re-register next term? It’s a different teacher.” Alucard said, fingers now twisting in the little gold chains.

That pissed Trevor off. He wouldn’t even think about the 25% non-refundable loss, Belmont thought, when it would be the difference between graduating or not.

“I have better things to do with my time and my money, Alucard Tepes,” Trevor enjoyed the narrowing of the TA’s eyes. “Some of us aren’t here for shits and giggles. I am not dropping this because you don’t like me. Deal with it.”

“Look, if this is about the money, the 25% tuition, I can—” Alucard started and Trevor saw red. He surged up, pencils clattering on the floor, and stepped around his easel.

Do not. Do not ever offer me money like you know me, or you can buy me!” His fists clenched and he struggled to remember he’d told Sypha he would try not to hit Alucard ever again.

Thank the stars I didn’t promise her, he thought. That I had known better than to promise. “I’m not for sale, and you’d better—”

“I’m sorry.”

Trevor blinked. Excuse me what? 

“Truly, I am, I didn’t mean it that way but I can understand it sounded like it.” Alucard didn’t look at him, but his apology was quiet and sincere. The TA’s hands stilled, and he fell silent.

“Yeah?” Trevor said, fully aware he sounded as surprised as he felt. Alucard’s eyes flicked up to his and for a moment, Belmont was lost inside a glittering cave of gold that felt like an endless stream flowing into the unknown.

Uncomfortable, Trevor looked away first. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and bent down, making a show of picking up his pencils. He couldn’t have been more surprised when Alucard squatted beside him and picked them up with him.

“Here,” the blonde said and offered the three he’d retrieved. Trevor stared at his hand, noticing the long, gracefully tapered fingers, the tiny black smudges from his charcoal, the fine bones in his wrist.

He’s beautiful, he thought again. This time it wasn’t chased with immediate resentment but confusion. Trevor reached out to take the supplies, and his fingertips brushed Alucard’s palm. A wave of awareness swamped him; alarming, exciting and uncertain. Trevor’s eyes shot back up to Alucard’s. The painter wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at their still hands, hovering over each other.

His lashes are insane, Trevor thought, literally impossible. If they weren’t so close, he would have thought they were fake. But the color and the close proximity left no doubt that they were real. Trevor’s fingertips itched to brush over their silky length.

“I need to know if you are going to respect my authority in this class. If you are going to complain to Professor Shaft about me.” Alucard’s voice broke Trevor’s trance and jerked him back to reality. This man despised him and looked down on him. He would do well to remember that.

But his apology …, Trevor started to think and then shut that down. There had been too many times in his life that he’d given the benefit of the doubt and it’d bitten him in the ass. Besides, Alucard had already made his opinion abundantly clear.

Still, he knew that professors would take their TA’s recommendations and observations into consideration. He needed to pass this class. Financially, time-wise and emotionally, he couldn’t afford to take it again. “I won’t complain if you treat me like any other student. Respecting your authority? Well, that depends. I give respect when it is earned.” Trevor took the pencils and stood.

Alucard looked up at him and for a moment, Trevor had a scorching image of what the man might look like naked. Kneeling in front of the sculptor, eager to please, with those parted lips and wide, knowing eyes. Oh fuck, don’t go there, he thought frantically.

“How would someone earn your respect Belmont?” Alucard asked him with that tone of disapproval and distain. For some sick reason Trevor was getting to like it.

Unbidden and unwelcome, Belmont’s brain helpfully answered, that’s easy; you can suck my—.

The doorknob rattled.

---

Adrian was attracted.

It was horrible. He couldn’t pretend anymore and it was going to be a problem. It already was a problem. When Trevor had touched his hand, it’d been like nothing the painter had ever felt before. It left him breathless and he’d barely suppressed his shiver. He had no idea why it had felt like Trevor had just licked over his hand, but that was what it felt like.

Well, at least I think that’s what it would feel like, Adrian thought. No one had ever licked his palm, or any part of his body, so he could only guess. Why did it have to be him? he wondered again, as he looked up at Belmont and waited for an answer to his question.

Why wouldn’t it be? His desire answered him. Look at him, he’s captivating. It was true. Trevor looked down at him like a commanding warrior, all demanding tension, intense aura and battle-ready stance. He was so still that his chains didn’t even clink and slide, which they’d done all class.

What do I have to do to earn your respect? He asked again, silently.

It was the eternal question for Adrian and he hated asking it. It ripped him open, left his guts strewn everywhere. It was the question he asked himself every art opening, every scholarship application, every disagreement with his father. Every time he asked it of someone; Adrian was really asking it of himself.

For the thousandth time in his life, Adrian told himself that he had no reason to feel this way. To feel like a liar in his own life, a sad bird on a windowsill shivering in the cold, a child left behind at the gas station. But he did.

He told himself that it was silly to feel this way. He told himself that he was loved and had no ‘bad thing’ in his history that could explain this feeling. Others had it far worse than he did, and his entire life had been blessed with enormous privilege.

Take Sypha for example. She was enormously talented, dedicated, and had an obviously successful future ahead of her. Her parents weren’t wealthy and weren’t connected. While she had some financial support from them and scholarships, she knew there was no ‘safety net’ behind her. She had to make it on her own and knew it.

Knowing the pressure and expectation on her, she had every reason to have a chronic anxiety disorder but she didn’t. She was cheerful, outgoing, sweet and generous. When she befriended him, he couldn’t believe it. People like Sypha never wanted to be his friend; unless they thought he could connect them to the lifestyle of his parents.

But she didn’t want that from him. He’d watched for it. It never came. When she’d finally realized he was that Alucard Addrine Tepes, well, she’d laughed and said she needed to work on paying attention sometimes. By the time she’d gifted him the little comic she’d made of them as two bats roosting, he’d realized that somehow, he’d found a friend that wanted him for himself.

The little comic, which she’d titled “Bat Company,” was just as cute and funny as Sypha was. A truly outrageous caricature of their faces, it hung beside his mirror so he could see it everyday and know that he was profoundly lucky. He’d told her once that he loved that she didn’t seem to care about his family connections, but he really should tell her again. It meant everything to him.

It meant that when she’d told him that she loved him and felt lucky to be his best friend, he felt cherished. When she told him that he was a good person who was more than enough just by being himself, he believed her. It meant that when she joked that they should just get married already because he was the only one who understood her, he knew that she literally meant it. That they were close in spite of his Tepes connection.

Adrian was damned lucky to have her as his friend, much less to have her feel the same way. Sypha had every reason in the world to ridicule him for his feelings of inadequacy and struggles to feel validation. But she never did. She never got tired of hearing the same old misery or vulnerabilities. She never threw it in his face or belittled him.

Frankly, it was some of his conversations with her that helped him realize where some of it came from. Adrian was sensitive to the needs of those he loved. Disappointing them was terrifying. Which is why it should have been obvious to him that some of this feeling came from his relationship with his father. He knew that while his father loved him, Vlad would never understand Adrian.

In fact, his father loved him so fiercely that it made Adrian guilty about needing his own path. It made him resistant to accepting his father’s money and connections or leveraging his influence and fame. Sypha had helped him understand that sometimes it is harder to have the disappointment of someone you love, and you know wants everything good for you, then it is to have the disapproval of someone you despise.

Speaking of someone you should despise, why do you care about Belmont’s respect? Adrian asked himself, looking up into a tense, tanned face with eyes so blue they seemed to shatter the stillness with insistence. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, his churning guts said it all.

You care because you love this class and you don’t want to lose it, he thought. You care because Sypha asked you to give him another chance. You care because it’s obvious she’s into him and you don’t want to lose her. You care because you just really want to crawl forward, unzip his pants and take Belmont into your mouth until your jaw ach—

The doorknob rattled before it opened and they both looked over. There she was, bright, bouncy and grinning. Sypha brightens everything where ever she is and whatever she is doing, he thought, his face instinctively forming into a smile.

He knew Sypha thought she looked like a boy, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. She was petite, gently rounded and looked like a mischievous fairy. With wide blue eyes, vibrant orange-red hair that she always grumbled about letting grow too long and an electric smile, she turned heads.

Her features were not conventionally pretty, but it was the lightness of her heart that transformed them. She literally sparkled with energy and happiness and people responded to her like she was an ice cream cone at a three-year-old’s birthday party.

Sypha was always neat and put together. Her style tended to be colorful but comfortable, and today was no exception. She wore blue corduroy overalls with a plethora of buttons on the straps. Knowing Sypha they would range from art-supporting quotes to LGBTQ2+ positive to videogame characters. He was pretty sure he saw a Star Trek pin in there too actually.

Her rainbow striped crop top was a favorite of his, flattering, sweet and completely her. The usual green Converse peeked out from the overalls, “Stop Poverty!” written across their tops in permanent marker. A wide brimmed felt hat completed the look. Sometimes Sypha would dabble with make up, but usually only for parties. Today she must have felt playful because she had bright red lipstick on.

“Hey Adrian! I needed to ask you about—Oh!,” Sypha stopped, grin slipping into a curious quirk of her brow. “Uh, what’s going on guys? Is this a bad time?” 

When neither of them answered her immediately, her smile became naughty. “Can I watch?”

--- 

You're not shy, you get around
You wanna fly, don't want your feet on the ground
You stay up, you won't come down
You wanna live, you wanna move to the sound
Got fire in your veins
Burnin' hot but you don't feel the pain
Your desire is insane
You can't stop until you do it again
But sometimes I wonder as I look in your eyes
Maybe you're thinking of some other guy
But I know, yes I know, how to treat you right
You say it's urgent
So urgent
Just wait and see
How urgent my love can be

-"Urgent," Foreigner

Notes:

I'm sorry this didn't come last night! I've been sick for the last 48 and it's slowed me down. Also Halloween and my kiddo's birthday are in the next 10 days. With world events, both have required significantly more planning. I still intend to attempt to finish this before the end of the month (crosses fingers) though so stay tuned!

Chapter 5: Love isn't always on time

Summary:

Well, that’s interesting, Trevor thought, intrigued. She obviously meant it in jest, but he was surprised Sypha would make a joke like that with Alucard. That she’d even considered the possibility. He should have known someone as fascinating and unconventional as Sypha Belnades would have no qualms about a ménage à trois.

For that matter Belmont didn’t necessarily either, he’d just never considered it. His eyes slid over her and flicked back to Tepes. Oh, I’d consider the fuck out of them both, he decided with brutal honesty.

Notes:

Oct 27-Familiar

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Well, that’s interesting, Trevor thought, intrigued. She obviously meant it in jest, but he was surprised Sypha would make a joke like that with Alucard. That she’d even considered the possibility. He should have known someone as fascinating and unconventional as Sypha Belnades would have no qualms about a ménage à trois. 

For that matter Belmont didn’t necessarily either, he’d just never considered it. His eyes slid over her and flicked back to Tepes. Oh, I’d consider the fuck out of them both, he decided with brutal honesty.

It made him think about possibilities that did nothing to help Belmont ease off of his reaction to his fantasy of Adrian on his knees. Like Tepes writhing on his cock while the blonde’s pretty face was buried between Sypha’s thighs. That would be a great view, and as a bonus, Adrian wouldn’t be able to talk.

That might be a nice change of pace, he thought with a smirk.

Actually, Trevor reconsidered, I would love to hear him beg. That snooty, duchess voice all needy and desperate. Those dark notes of seduction filled with desire and anticipation. Whether for Trevor to fuck harder, or for Sypha to thrust into his mouth, it didn’t matter. Either would be extremely satisfying.

If he turned and kissed me, I could taste her on his lips and Adrian on my tongue. What would they taste like together? 

Hey! Not doing yourself any favors here, he thought and was grateful for his baggy t-shirt.

“Sweet thing, you know I always like an audience,” Trevor said smoothly, breaking the silence. He took the opportunity to lean down to replace his pencils and make a small adjustment to the pressing issue in his pants. “But why watch when you could join in? Let’s not waste a mouth as clever as yours.”

Alucard still hadn’t moved and Trevor was pretty sure the man was dying from shock. Tepes had gone paler than normal and was just staring at Sypha like she’d sprouted a crown of broccoli. Fuck it, Trevor thought recklessly, and offered the TA his hand.

Alucard’s eyes snapped back to Belmont and he looked almost dazed. Yep, he’s horrified. Trevor held in his snicker, cocked an eyebrow and said, “What do you think, Legs? Bet I could make you say my name so nicely.”

“Adrian is always nice,” Sypha said, closing the door behind her and setting her bag down. Alucard finally took his hand, and there was a zing of sensation up Trevor’s arm. The man’s cool and smooth skin settled against Trevor’s calluses and rough palms.

I bet his skin is like this all over, Trevor thought and tried to think about something else. He seized on the first thing that came to mind.

“What is your actual name? I thought it was Alucard, but Sypha,” he looked over at her, before looking back, “and your students; they call you Adrian.” The blonde just stared at him like Belmont had whipped out his dick and slapped it on his face.

Now that’s a pretty thought, Trevor groaned inwardly. “Coming up?” he asked Tepes, and his cock cheerfully proclaimed someone already was. That question seemed to break the TA’s reverie and Alucard practically leapt up.

The TA dropped Trevor’s hand like it was about to explode. “Ah, yes, thank you. Hello Sypha, how lovely to see you.” He looked lost and then gave a tiny shiver. “My name? It’s both, well, sort of.” Alucard looked around abruptly, backed up, and sat down on the stool beside him.

“It’s both?” Trevor prompted, amused by Alucard’s flustered state.

What’s the matter, Tepes? Afraid I could make you say my name when you came? Trevor didn’t want to think about why he really wanted to find out if it would be a broken whisper, or a choked wail. Remember, he thinks you aren’t worthy of being here. He thinks you are a nobody.

Trevor felt the tense of his shoulders in response to that thought. He really was trying to remember that.

“Ah, yes. My full name is Alucard Addrine Tepes. Professionally and legally, I go by Alucard Tepes. I have to.” He shrugged. “My parents, my friends and usually everyone, just calls me Adrian. The only people who use Alucard regularly are my professors, professional contacts, or…” his eyes flicked to Trevor, and he seemed to steel himself a little, “those who think my familial ties should be highlighted for some reason.”

The way Tepes had said ‘familial ties,’ was very interesting. Even more that he clearly preferred the more informal name, saying he ‘had to’ go by Alucard. He was an adult; Tepes could change it if he wanted to.

“Why Addrine, if they were just going to call you Adrian though?” Trevor asked, curious now.

Alucard sighed deeply, and before Trevor could even bristle, Sypha spoke from behind him. “Adrian’s father? His middle name is Dracula. Alucard is Dracula backwards.” Trevor turned to her; eyebrows raised.

“Addrine is his mother’s maiden name.” Sypha continued, as she pulled out a rolled-up drawing from her bag and started to clip it to an easel. “It’s a family thing, reusing names and such. As soon as Adrian could speak, he started insisting on Adrian. Can’t blame him. I’d want my own name too. Wouldn’t you?”

It was uncomfortably close to exactly why Trevor went by Christopher Wise professionally. Would Tepes have that option? Would he be able to be anonymous? Trevor suspected that was not an option for the painter. Vlad was famous, and in her own way, so was Lisa.

Trevor never paid attention to that sort of thing, but he’d known about Aluca— Adrian’s parents, even though Xpose never mentioned it. Heck, he remembered the cover of Time magazine with the family on it. Adrian would have been somewhere around eight? His mother had thought the photograph was terribly romantic and kept the thing around until… 

Trevor pushed the grief back down and stepped around the memories. ‘Trevor Belmont’ was a known name, but his face wasn’t. There were very few photographs of him in relation to the Belmont scandal, because he’d been a minor at the time, and then because his extended family acted like he’d never been born.

The face of Trevor Belmont essentially disappeared within months of what happened, which is why his alias worked. He could have legally changed his name but he just couldn’t bring himself to. It felt like it would be the final disrespect to his mother and father. Despite everything, he had loved them very much.

The only ones who kept tabs on him anymore were the authorities and it was always with questions about the mob and which forgeries remained in circulation. Two things I know nothing about, he thought bitterly. It was only in the last two years, stepping back into the art world, that people had started to associate ‘Trevor Belmont,’ with those Belmonts.

“Anyway, anyone want to explain to me why it looked like Adrian was gonna propose? Does this mean we can all be friends now?” Sypha asked, finishing her set up at the easel and looking back at Trevor.

Before he could answer, Adrian said softly, “I’m still waiting for Trevor to tell me what I need to do to earn his respect. He is in my drawing class and I need to know that, at the very least, he won’t disrupt the class.”

Sypha’s smile was brilliant. “Oh please! Trevor would never do that. Besides, it’s an exciting opportunity for him!” Her eyes glowed as she looked at Belmont. “Adrian taught me everything I know about drawing; he is really gifted at teaching. Somehow he finds a way to explain things and show things to you in a way that no one else can!” 

Unbidden, Trevor thought about Nathan and the trillion explanations on lighting. It seemed to be true. Damn it to hell, Trevor thought, I don’t want to promise. His idea of disruption might be if I talk! He felt both sets of eyes on him and looked at Sypha.

There was something about her that always made him not want to let her down. Sypha looked at him like she believed he was a better person than he actually was. Why that should matter to him when literally no one else’s opinion did, had him at a total loss. But it did.

“I don’t have an intention of disrupting the class,” Trevor said, crossing his arms. “As I said, if Adrian treats me like any other student, I have no complaints.” He turned to Tepes. “I will treat you like any of my other instructors, unless you give me a reason not to.” 

That was fair. If he argued with some of his other instructors too, well, it was that matter of respect again. As though he read Belmont’s mind, Adrian stood and asked, “Would I have any opportunity to discuss disagreements outside of the class instead of in front of everyone? I don’t care for scenes.” Belmont couldn’t help it, he sneered.

“Oh indeed, scenes are ever so rude and unseemly. God forbid the society page gets wind of the…” Sypha cleared her throat loudly. Fuck, Trevor thought.

Perhaps to both of their surprise, Adrian snickered. “You sound like my father,” he said, struggling to stop his smile. “In his world, God forbid the papers get wind of… well, anything.” The blonde sighed, the smile fading away. “Would it help you to understand that I don’t want to argue in front of the other students because I don’t want Professor Shaft to be involved? He…prefers to give this class minimal attention.”

Trevor’s instincts prickled and he latched onto that. Wait, exactly what does that mean? “How minimal Adrian? When will I meet him?”

Adrian seemed to tense and gave Trevor a wary glance. Those long fingers twisted in his necklaces. “At some point you will. He’ll come observe in the corner of the class from time to time.” Trevor opened his mouth, and Adrian rushed on.

“Look, it’s better if you just leave that alone. Please.” He was almost pleading again. “And before you get going, can I just say it is for everyone’s sake? He is not a kind or patient man; I’ve seen him fail students for saying the wrong thing. No matter what you think of me, I can promise you that I will not let him fail you for saying something I don’t agree with.”

---

This conversation was an utter disaster and he was reeling. Whether it was from the fact that he’d just told far more about himself and his family than he ever would to a virtual stranger, or Trevor’s blatant sexual innuendo and then the searing touch of his hand, or the fact that Adrian was on the verge of admitting that he essentially taught this entire class himself. 

If Belmont asks if you grade the class, you must lie, he told himself desperately, and hoped he could manage that simple task.

Let’s be honest. That is all bad enough, but what you thought about Sypha’s incredible suggestion was far worse. Far, far, far worse, he acknowledged. Her suggestion that she watch Belmont and him do… something, had stunned him. Not because she made it. That was just Sypha, she made sex jokes all the time.

No. It shocked him because he liked the idea. The image of blowing Belmont while Sypha watched them and gave them directions had been incredibly erotic. He’d seen how it could be. How she’d suggest how Belmont might hold his hair, how Adrian might move his head, how he might use his tongue. It was exciting and arousing and completely blindsided him.

When Trevor had suggested she might join in; it was like Adrian was seeing her for the first time. His brain just helpfully supplied the image of her fitting between them, around them, with them. It had been perfect, and it suddenly and completely upended his entire world.

There was a part of him that was horrified by this. Sypha was his dearest friend and he couldn’t believe he was thinking about this. That his body was reacting with desire to this idea. But another part of him told him that he should have seen this coming.

Haven’t you always thought she was so beautiful, so adventurous, so free-spirited? Adrian thought to himself. Didn’t you feel a tiny bit intimidated by her sexual experience and her confidence? You just never gave yourself the chance to think about it, to consider it.

I didn’t want to ruin what I have with her. I didn’t want… to be a disappointment? He asked himself with cruel honesty. Okay, yes! Fine! I love her, things are amazing the way they are and I don’t want to fuck it up. I’ve never been with anyone and Sypha has, several times. 

This reality had been an easy thing to side step; other than that one night when Sypha had been really drunk, she’d never mentioned anything. He didn’t count that night anyway. As tempted as he had been to treat it as an honest invitation, she’d been far too drunk to know what she was doing, and he would never consider anything with anyone in that state. 

When she’d laughed it off the next day as ridiculous, he’d known there was never any chance and shoved it all away. He was good at that.

Then Belmont showed up and his attraction to the man was fierce and hot. Adrian had already been conflicted about Belmont and his feel—no, no, just attraction, he thought desperately, just attraction— for him. The blonde had worried about how that could work, given that there was an obvious spark between Sypha and Trevor. He’d feared ruining everything if he couldn’t resolve his own issues.

His best friend’s suggestion was an easy and enticing resolution to all of his concerns at once.

Except that Trevor hated him. Except that he didn’t know if Sypha was serious and couldn’t risk a misstep if she wasn’t. Except that now these images would stay with him and he didn’t know what to do about it. Adrian could use five minutes to himself to get his head on right. 

Let’s be honest, I could use all day, he thought.

“Alright,” Trevor said, bringing Adrian back to the present. “If you feel that a disagreement is becoming too disruptive, you can ask me to step into the hallway to discuss it. You want me to treat you like my other instructors? I reserve the right to challenge things I think are wrong. That is something that I do.”

I’ll just bet it is, Adrian thought, but simply said, “That is reasonable. I never want any student to feel silenced just because they have a different opinion than mine. Well, unless it is hate speech or bullying another student or something like that.” He arched a brow, but surprised Trevor by saying, “I don’t see having that issue with you.”

“Awesome!” Sypha chimed in behind them. “Adrian, it’s time to strip, I need to finish this drawing and I only have a little more than an hour now. Hurry up." She came over to peek at Belmont's board, and again, Adrian was intensely curious "Trevor? What are you working on?”

Adrian was completely torn. He didn’t want to be almost naked in front of Trevor. It was a little too vulnerable. Worse, he wasn’t sure he could be that unclothed in front of Sypha right now either. He’d never really worried about his briefs before, and now he was very afraid of where his mind might wander. Sypha would notice immediately because she would be sketching him. That would be humiliating.

He was diverted from his dilemma when Sypha started talking about Trevor’s drawing. “Oh, drapes!” She exclaimed. “Fun! Haha, not.” Adrian had to grin. Sypha had really struggled with drapes and they’d both been happy when she finally got a handle on the concept.

“Oh cool, you made weird faces in there?” She pointed at something and looked at Trevor with admiration. “That is too cool. I never thought about how creepy they look actually…”

Creepy faces? Adrian thought, What the heck? He’s supposed to be drawing drapes! They both looked up at the TA when he stepped forward to come look. Trevor looked at him and Adrian was surprised to see trepidation on Belmont’s face.

“It’s not ready. I need like, thirty more minutes.” Trevor put a protective hand on the easel. “Then I can show you, or, you know, you can see it when you… hand it in to Shaft for grading.”

Adrian knew immediately. Trevor knew he was the grader. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he thought.

The only other person who knew other than Shaft, was Sypha. For a split second he wondered if she told him and discounted it immediately. She would never do that without asking him. He figured it out on his own, Adrian realized.

He looked at Trevor and felt a jolt. It was written all over his face; Belmont wasn’t going to say anything. Thank you God, Adrian thought.

Although that doesn’t explain why he doesn’t want me to see it yet. Maybe he just is shy about having his process watched?  It wasn’t uncommon. Some artists really did better with privacy, although he had a hard time reconciling that with the intense focus Belmont had displayed in class.

Unsure how to respond in such a way as to tell Belmont it was alright; he took refuge in humor. “Was I not the viewer you had in mind when you told Sypha you like an audience?” 

Oops too far, he thought, when Belmont blinked and Sypha’s jaw dropped. Adrian could feel his cheeks heat and immediately hated his pale skin. Not for the first time.

Belmont recovered first. “Well, I had suggested your participation, but actually, we could all take turns with watching. Don’t want to leave the lady waiting.” Trevor’s grin was lightning quick.

Holy, be careful where you aim that, Adrian thought, dazzled. His smile is stunning when it’s for me.

Not bad Tepes; equality of the sexes is something I am always down for,” the sculptor smirked. 

“And that’s what I want to hear,” Sypha chimed in, “put the words ‘equality’ and ‘I am always down,’ together and I am a happy clam. Adrian, for real, why are you still dressed?”

“Uh, I…um,” Adrian stammered. Sweet lord, was she serious? They would do this right now? Part of him was terrified, but parting of him, a growing part, was very okay with this idea.

Sypha laughed, easy and understanding. “Not for sex, although…just let me know, but for the sketch! Seriously! This is due tomorrow and I have an evening class. Hussle, please!”

Damn it, Adrian thought, unsure whether to be relieved or more terrified. Just let me know…Was she serious? Could he…? 

“Gooooo Addy, for fuck’s sake!” Sypha said, exasperated. He'd have to think on it later. Adrian resigned himself. Surely he could think unsexy thoughts for an hour. He could do this.

---

Sypha couldn’t believe her own daring. Perhaps it was being with Belmont, who was unabashedly hitting on Adrian while simultaneously giving her winks and suggestive touches. Maybe it was the fact that Adrian hadn’t run from the room screaming when Trevor suggested that she could join the two of them.

Or maybe it was because she thinks that she may have just stumbled on the fact that Adrian might actually be a little afraid of sex, and that might be the whole problem. That he was hiding behind ‘waiting for the right person;’ when what he really needed was a gentle, assertive and caring lover. She could be that when she wanted to be. She couldn’t say for sure, but she suspected that Trevor could be that too. Together? Well, they could all be something more.

There was a dynamic between them all, and she could really see it now. Sypha could see the possibilities of what they all would bring to the table and what they could give each other. Not just in the bedroom, but emotionally and mentally. Sypha had yet to completely plum the depths of Trevor’s story, but she already knew enough that she understood that much of the pain he felt stemmed from a rejection just as sharp as Adrian’s had been.

Sypha has not experienced rejection like that, but she understood needing to feel accepted for who she was. Adrian had done so without reservation, even the ugly, needy parts of her. She’d already opened up some of that sticky, gooey mess of her secrets to Trevor and he’d been completely accepting. 

Sypha had constructed a plan, but it was changing now. She just hoped she was right, or she might ruin her friendship with Adrian. No, trust your instincts and trust what you saw flash in his eyes when he looked at you and when he looked at Trevor.

She was going to, because the potential for happiness for all of them was huge. Taking charge of situations was a familiar role for Sypha, and she was very good at it.

It hadn’t surprised her when Adrian went to change in the bathroom. Usually he just stripped in the corner and sauntered over. He had such a funny relationship with his body. It was like he forgot he was observed or desired, until someone commented on his looks or approached him in a sexual manner. He was completely confident and casual until that happened. Then he became embarrassed and shy.

She heard the door open behind her, and watched Trevor’s hand tighten on the side of the easel. He was back to his artwork, insisting he would stay out of the way and leave them alone. When he asked Adrian if he could stay, Sypha was sure it was Trevor’s ‘please’ that did it, but who knows. Maybe Adrian felt the barriers crumbling too. 

Either way, she was certain Trevor would be quiet, but if she didn’t catch him staring at Adrian while she was drawing, she would eat her hat. Resisting the knowing grin that wanted to rent space on her face, she turned to Adrian and indicated the plinth under the spotlight.

“Remember the pose?” He gave her a small smile, and nodded. “Awesome! Go ahead, I’ll arrange once you are on.”

Adrian took a quick peek at her drawing again, and she knew he was refreshing the small details, like which way his hair fell, if his eyes were open, how his fingers lay. Then he quietly took off his robe, sneaking glances over at Belmont who was drawing like the world was ending. Sypha almost felt sorry for Trevor; she at least knew what was coming, having sketched Adrian several times now.

Her best friend laid down and brought his knees up, allowing them to fall naturally to one side while leaving his chest facing the ceiling. He closed his eyes and raked out his hair. Finally, he brought one hand back to his chest, and left the other in that golden cloud.

The effect was stunning. He looked like a sleeping angel dreaming of his lover. It didn’t help that Sevdaliza was playing; the music was seductively hypnotic and poignant, only heightening the impression of otherworldliness.

Sypha turned to stand back and took the opportunity to look at Trevor. He had more self-control than she thought; he wasn’t looking. Interesting, she thought, and wondered what that meant. She stood and came over to correct Adrian’s left arm and bring the far side of his hair into a more triangular pattern. All set, she thought, standing back to look. 

She turned suddenly, and that’s when she saw the stare. Her hat was safe, but if Adrian could see Belmont’s face, her best friend would know that he wasn’t. Belmont tore his gaze from Adrian and looked at her. She looked at Trevor. An understanding passed between them. 

Trevor held up his phone and pointed at her. She nodded and took out hers. His text popped up.

'We need to talk.' Sypha looked up and grinned. She could literally see the tension drain out of Belmont, and he grinned back.

‘Yes,’ she wrote back, ‘we definitely should talk.’

--- 

It's not in the way that you hold me
It's not in the way you say you care
It's not in the way you've been treating my friends
It's not in the way that you stayed till the end
It's not in the way you look or the things that you say that you'll do
Hold the line
Love isn't always on time

- "Hold The Line," Toto

Notes:

Now I can't stop thinking about Alucard all soft and sprawled out while Sypha and Trevor look at each other and think about which part of him they're gonna jump first...*sighs dreamily*

Chapter 6: Oh, let me be your sledgehammer

Summary:

“Ditto to all of that, me too, and hell yes,” Trevor said.

Notes:

Oct 28-Nocturnal

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The sculpture studio was clear across campus, a giant converted warehouse retrofitted with plaster rooms, a woodworking shop, a stonework center and a welding space. The studio spaces for the juniors and seniors in sculpture were shoved to the side. He counted himself extraordinarily lucky that he got one of the private studio rooms.

It was only because there had been two extra, and Trevor had already declared himself a sculpture major. There were precious few sculpture majors, and the department wanted to encourage him to stick with it. They needn’t have worried; he had known his medium since he was four. Still, they didn’t need to know that, and having a space of his own on campus was incredibly useful. His studio was off in the corner, and one of the bigger ones because it had to have the welding station in it.

He was hip-deep in a weld when there was a banging on his door. That must be Sypha, he thought and his guts jumped. She’d gone on to her class, and said she’d come by after. He’d done everything possible not to think about what her grin had meant. What might be possible. What he wanted to do. To not follow her into her classroom, duck under the table and go down on her like every orgasm he could give her would produce diamonds.

“Come in!” he hollered, and struggled to focus on finishing this join before turning to greet his visitor. Truth be told, he’d been slipping in and out of his focus since the drawing room.

He should never have stayed, but the temptation had been too great. He hadn’t finished the damn drawing anyway. Seeing Adrian spread out like a sensual offering of erotic sacrifice; contour-defining briefs—in black of course—like a fucking bow on a birthday present, had nearly driven him mad. How Sypha survived it, he would never know. The woman had willpower.

Trevor had thought Adrian was beautiful before? He’d had no idea. The man could have made a billion dollars if he’d chosen to become a model. His body was a stunning masterpiece, and for a moment, Trevor had wished he worked with marble. That body begged for it. Long, pale limbs, twining golden locks, relaxed, soft muscles; Adrian had been sublime.

He wasn’t perfect though, and that was worse. Trevor didn’t like perfection; it was impossible to return it, and everything needed an imperfection to make it interesting. Even Michelangelo’s David had faults, it made the brilliant splendor possible. Flaws attracted Trevor, held him captive and needy. Even in that, Adrian didn’t disappoint.

The painter had a faded, light pink scar about three inches under his collarbone and running almost to his bellybutton. It was clearly old, and looked like a surgical scar. It’d been shocking and then intriguing. Trevor could only imagine what caused it, and the scenarios simply got more ridiculous the longer he thought about it. He was curious why Adrian didn’t have it removed; surely, he could. Trevor wanted to ask Sypha about it.

The sculptor had wanted to set his teeth to the scar, and follow it down to the waistband of the painter's briefs. Those damned briefs, Trevor thought again. The only barrier between Adrian, and Trevor fucking him into the plinth until it shattered, was black Gucci briefs. It might as well have been the Berlin Wall. His underwear had cost more than Trevor’s whole outfit, and reminded him of everything that stood between the two men. But that hadn’t stopped him from wanting.

When Sypha had leaned over Adrian, ass in the air, breasts hovering over his mouth, Trevor had to close his eyes in self-preservation. His lust had been full throttle, and for a moment his brain was like that meme of Michael Scott from The Office telling everyone to 'calm down!' while simultaneously screaming 'it was happening!'

What is wrong with me? he had wondered. Sex and desire were always comfortable things for him, but this was something entirely different. It was almost alarming to him. He’d known he was attracted to both Sypha, and Adrian, but the idea of having them together?

Belonging. Home. Need. The words had flitted through him, filled him with longing, and lingering unease. Trevor didn’t need anyone else. He has been fine, independent… safe, he had thought, and the word had dragged on him like he was picking a scab.

What’s wrong with safe? he’d argued with himself. Safe meant no disappointments, no angry relatives who loved you one day and abandoned you the next, no scrambling for food or warmth… And then, startling him, his brain kept going. No dreams, no love, no future.

Wait what?! he’d thought, shocked. Where had all of this been hiding? He was incredibly disturbed by it. Trevor had been grateful for the time away from Sypha; if only to try to put this everything in perspective, and work on his own art.

Who am I kidding? he thought, turning off his machine and lifting the mask, I am not getting shit done today with either project.

Sypha stood by the door, eyes averted from the brilliant welding glare, and looked up as he put down his mask. For a moment they shared that same stare from the drawing studio. It gave him prickling goosebumps, and his desire flared back up as though there hadn’t been three hours between the drawing room and now.

Trevor sought for a place to begin. He shouldn’t have bothered.

“So, we,” she indicated the two of them with her fingers, “want to fuck.” Sypha said without preamble, shrugging off her bag and looking around. “And I think we should, as soon as possible. But you want to fuck Adrian, and you’re worried that might be a problem for me? It’s not, as long as you aren’t the jealous type. I’ve wanted to ride him like a merry-go-round since I met him, and I imagine you do too.”

If Trevor’s jaw hit floor any harder it would have broken through to the basement. I think I love you, he thought, and then immediately backed away from the L-word. Sypha was amazing and impressive and forthright and this was an incredible offer… but he couldn’t love her. He’d known her less than a month! Besides, love was…was…

She wandered over to the sketches on his wall of the sculpture he’d been unsuccessfully trying to work on today. “Adrian and I are closer because we’ve been friends longer, but I don’t think that would be an issue. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life in some ways.”

Yes, exactly, Trevor thought, and abruptly snapped his jaw shut. He stripped his gloves off and dropped them on the welding table.

“I was worried about your personality clashes, but I honestly think it will be fine.” She smiled; he could hear it in her voice. “If I know him at all, Adrian will likely be less dominant, or sex-driven, than either of us. He’s not submissive per say, more like controlled, but he doesn’t need to be top dog. I don’t think you do either, actually, so I think you two can figure it out.”

Trevor thought about his vision of Adrian on his knees, eager and hungry. We could figure it out no problem, the sculptor thought, and debated whether he should be removing his apron or not.

“That being said, the two of us need to have an agreement about how we approach this with Adrian. At least in the beginning, it needs to be gentle, and it needs to be easy. I won’t risk hurting him, losing him or disappointing him and he’s… ah, well, I can get into it more if you—we— are of one mind.” She turned back to him to look at his face. “If you are in agreement; I think we can make this work.”

Oh I will work, just let me get on my knees. I will work like it’s the damned Venice Biennale, he thought, untying his protective apron. This was happening; she didn’t need to convince him.

They would need to talk about the trio idea; Trevor didn’t think Adrian would ever accept him or want him. But if Adrian could be convinced, he was ready to fuck Tepes until he begged for mercy. Until he says my name nicely, until he let’s me climb inside that pretty mouth and sink into all that hot...

That gave Trevor pause; did he really want to fuck someone who didn’t respect him? Damn it, do I ever, he thought immediately, not even trying to pretend, but

“I just want to be clear that I really like you." Sypha interjected. "I’m gonna jump you either way; so that’s not even on the table, it’s already pinned to the wall.” Trevor’s brain snapped back to what was happening right now, and not what might be an issue down the road.

He nodded like his head was a bobble doll and he slipped his protective apron off, dropping it on the table alongside his gloves. I am up for wall sex; one could say I have a hard-on for the idea, he thought with anticipation. He congratulated himself; for once, he’d thought ahead and put condoms in his duffel last week. Just in case.

“But this trio notion though? I see it as a long-term thing,” Sypha continued, the first shadow of concern on her face since she started talking. Trevor didn’t think his jaw could drop again.

Looks like we were on the same page from the get go, he thought. Unbidden, his impression of belonging and home trickled back.

“However, I’ve known you less than a month and I’ve know Adrian for almost a year. I won’t risk him for a one-time menage-a-trois. As much as I want to do this,” she looked at him with smoldering eyes, “and I want to do this. I need to know that you’re thinking long term too, otherwise I can’t.” Her smile was regretful.

She looked pained, “And I really want to, so could you please just…”

You are offering me everything I want; I’m in, he thought with excitement, and a joy so staggering it took his breath away. If he hadn’t been so aroused, the potency of it might have given him pause, but for now, he chalked it up to the impending sex.

Trevor strode over and yanked Sypha to him. His lips found her as hot and eager as he was and she licked into his mouth like his tongue was the fountain of life.

“Oh yeah, that’s the ticket,” she murmured against his lips, and Trevor had to agree. She tasted like steeped tea and sugar; warm, comforting, exotic. Kissing her was a timeless familiarity, as though they’d done this a thousand times. Kissing her was unanticipated fireworks in the night sky that startled and then captivated. Her hands were in his hair and she pressed into him as he bent toward her.

He cupped her ass and lifted her into him. Sypha was lithe, strong and firmly rounded. She arched against him, sure and confident. She felt incredible and his need surged. “Did you lock the door?” He asked her, and Sypha smiled.

“Now why would I do that?” she asked him, hands already working the buttons on his shirt. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and Adrian will just walk in and join us.” When she touched his skin, he shuddered. Her fingertips were sure and seeking.

“Are you actually,” he hissed as she found his nipple, “going to tease me with Adrian while we’re—oh shit, like that, fucking A.” She ground against him, and Trevor went cross eyed. This woman would be the death of him, and he would die with a smile and a boner.

Pretty much how I always thought I’d go out, he thought with a grin.

“Why not?” Sypha asked him, lightly panting as she struggled to be released so she could work his shirt off. Trevor obliged her, and immediately went to work on the clasps of her overalls. “We both want him here with us, and, wow, look at you—" She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and off his wrists.

His ego went into overdrive. Her ‘wow’ made him feel like a warlord on the hunt. Trevor freed her torso from the overalls, and let them fall. That crop top should be silly and it is literally the sexiest thing, he thought, aching with desire. He could see a tiny peek of green lace peeping from the waistband of her overalls.

“You feel amazing, and I think you might have been made for me,” he said and knelt, working his way down her belly, tasting and discovering. More, more, more, I want it all, I need you, he thought as his tongue encountered the bone at her hip. He nipped the sweet curve.

Sypha shuddered, and thrust her hands back into his hair. “Damn right, and holy shit, your chest, your shoulders, you are so fucking hot, I just want to bite it, I just, just…” she drew back, and stared down at him. His eyes abruptly snapped up to hers, and her nostrils flared. “I want to do all the things, but right now if I don’t fuck you, I might scream.” She looked around wildly, searching, “Where can we? Can we…”

Trevor yanked her overalls down and cupped her. Holy fuck, he thought and his cock twitched. Sypha was hot and wet against his palm. “You’ll scream, trust me,” he told her.

She gasped and thrust against his hand. “I meant to tell you—oh my god, Trevor—I should tell you; I’m clean, I’m on birth con—sweet hell, you are good at that—I’ve got condoms in my—”

“Ditto to all of that, me too, and hell yes,” Trevor said. He backed her into the wall, fell to his knees, spread her thighs, and licked into the heart of her. Sypha shrieked, and fisted her hands into his hair. When she bucked against his face, Trevor thought he might come right there.

She dripped over his tongue, excited and passionate; flesh slick and throbbing against his mouth. He loved it. Her desire, her taste, her scent; she was perfect. It was like Sypha’s personality was captured in his mouth. All that energy, sexiness, and vibrancy bottled and flowing down his throat.

Her throaty moans and needy squeals undid him as surely as if it were her mouth on his cock. He wanted nothing more than to do this all day, and he just might. “Trevor, yes,Trevor, please I, oh, oh!” she wiggled helplessly, trembling, and he gripped her ass more firmly.

I’m here lover; I’ve got you, he thought, suckling. Her hips rocked in a telltale frantic pace, and Trevor felt her thighs tense against his shoulders.

“Oh my god, yes, I’m…yes, yes, don’t stop,” Sypha’s voice was fraying at the edges, and he felt her nails on his scalp. They were tiny licks of desire that tumbled straight down to his cock.

He teased her entrance with his finger, and Sypha wailed, “Please, oh please, do—" He slipped his finger inside her, and felt her clench and arch into him. “Trevor!”  she sobbed out, coming apart under his mouth. He thrust his finger shallowly, and suckled her through it, immense satisfaction flooding him.

Like being in the middle of a hurricane, he thought, a really gorgeous and incredible one.

He didn’t ease off until her hands went limp in his hair and her thighs trembled. With a little kiss to that exquisite, giving flesh, he slipped his finger from her. When Trevor rocked back on his heels and sucked his finger, he was unbelievably aroused and aching for her.

I could see this a long-term thing, he heard her say again in his mind, and thought, I could see this as a forever thing.

“So,” she chuckled weakly, “same time tomorrow?” Trevor arched his brow, and licked his lips.

“You haven’t screamed yet,” he said, and enjoyed the look of surprise, and then the slow smile of invitation.

“That’s true, Belmont. I believe you need to live up to your boasts. What are you going to do about it?” she asked him, stretching lazily so that her crop top danced enticingly under her breasts. He could see a wink of pink from her bra and felt his mouth water. She was a literal witch, and he was spellbound. He offered up thanks to whatever sex god had made this stunning creature.

“I was thinking I might bend you over my welding table, and see what I could do to fix the problem.” He stood and eased the crop top up so he could dance his fingers over the swell of her breasts.

Her breath hitched. “Trevor, that orgasm? That was the literal opposite of a problem. It’s more like the solution to end all things.”

He nodded sagely, and his eyes clamped onto hers. “Or I could fuck you right here against the wall,” he said, pulling the garment over her head.

“There is the added bonus of us being right here,” Sypha said as she re-emerged. “But I might need the support of the table. For some reason my legs are like Jello? I blame you.” Her eyes danced and that beautiful mouth curved.

“Well then, get your ass over there,” he said and smacked that enticing contour when she started to do just that. Watching her move, he thought again, it’s like she’s made for me.

Graceful, she stopped at her bag, and plucked out a foil packet. She waved it at him, grinned, and said, “Gotcha covered.”

It took him a second. “Well played Sypha, looks like you are back in fine form,” he responded with a grin of his own, and kicked off his boots. His hands went to the clasp of his pants, and Sypha’s eyes followed.

“Belmont, I never left, and speaking of fine form, I still want to bite your chest.” She leaned up against the table, arched her ass at him and spread her legs, watching his reaction over her shoulder.

There’s an invitation no one could refuse, he thought and struggled for words. “Fuck, Sypha, you are gorgeous. Really, you make me want to just want to get on my knees, and—” Trevor wrenched his pants off.

“You have done that, and it was mind-blowing, really, but I want to see what you can do when you’re standing,” she wiggled her cute ass, and he yanked his boxers down. “Oooo, and I want all of that.” Her eyes were appreciative, and her pink, wet tongue snuck out to lick over her top lip. “Here. Now. Get over here, Belmont.”

She didn’t need to ask him twice. Trevor slid up behind her, and fitted himself against her, cock on the cleft of her ass. They groaned together, skin on skin.

“There’s this thing I can do with my mouth—” Sypha started, and Trevor interrupted her.

“And I definitely want to try it sometime, but if I don’t get inside you, I’m going to—” She was already passing him the condom, and in less than the blink of an eye he was nestled up against her insane heat. “Sypha,” he murmured, and kissed her shoulder as he eased inside her. Her gasp was a lick up his spine and when she whispered his name, he answered her with sure, easy strokes.

“Hell yes,” she hissed at him, and thrust back against him. Trevor had to grin; she wasn’t wrong, they were well matched in desire. She liked being in charge, and he liked it too. Having someone who knew what she wanted, and had no problem asking for it was hot as hell.

Enjoying her squirming insistence, he deliberately slowed down his pace. “Trevor Belmont, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me—”

He slammed into her hard enough that it rippled up her ass and back. “Fuck yes, just, just like that, harder, oh!” she bent down and arched the small of her spine. The view was unbelievable and she managed to give a tiny bit more access to the hand gripping her hip. He was able to snake his hand around Sypha’s waist and dip down.

He sketched a tattoo of possession over the source of her desire that had her moaning a stream of incomprehensible pleasure. He caught his name and snatches of praise and command.

“I’m sorry, come again?” he smirked as he pounded her down into the table.

“Yes, please,” Sypha whimpered, and he quickened the movements of his fingers. It was the ‘please’ that did it for him. It was fucking hot, hearing her beg.

He couldn’t last much longer, but he wanted it go on forever. She was so wet, the sounds she was making were unbelievable, and her answering thrusts into him were hard and demanding. When Sypha went rigid and choked out a scream, clenching around him and taking him deep, Trevor came with her. It exploded behind his eyelids, dancing stars across his brain, and steeping his body in bliss.

She’s perfect; she’s liquid fire under me, he thought, and leaned over her. She turned back to kiss his mouth and he met her, murmuring happily into her soft lips. Sypha trailed kisses across the side of his cheek, and the tiny endearments were like chocolate chips in the sweetness of the moment.

"You need a bed in here," she told him, turning back and carefully pillowing herself on the welding table. For the first time, Trevor registered real concern she might hurt herself on the work station. It wasn't like he cleaned it up in preparation. He braced a palm on the table and tried to take his weight off her.

"Wait, no! I didn't mean like go get one right now," she said, sounding alarmed. He couldn't help his laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere; I was just trying to make sure you don't hurt yourself on the table," he said, sweeping her hair to the side and feeling the texture in his hand. She relaxed against him again.

"Good, I'm not ready to move yet, I just wish we could collapse and take a nap. So, about that bed?" 

"I think my colleagues might catch on that something is up if I move a mattress in here," he chuckled, "not to mention my profs."

Sypha laughed, "I think they might suspect exactly what is up from the screamed 'Trevor,' there at the end, if not the repeated sound of your hips against my ass. It's not exactly soundproof in here, you know."

Ah shit, he thought, she is totally right. Thank goodness most of them tend not to be nocturnal.

"Well at least they'll know I'm doing something worthy of a passing grade in here," he quipped, giving in and nuzzling her neck. 

"That was not just passing Trevor, that was teaching the damn class," she tossed back and he grinned.

"I look forward to being instructed by you soon. I promise to be very attentive," he said. She snorted.

"It'll be your turn to scream," she told him saucily.

Trevor was counting on it.

--- 

If you just lay down your tracks
You could have an aeroplane flying
If you bring your blue sky back
All you do is call me
I'll be anything you need...
I wanna be your sledgehammer
Why don't you call my name?
Oh, let me be your sledgehammer
This will be my testimony
-"Sledgehammer," Peter Gabriel

Notes:

I read this to my partner who sighed at the end and said, "Sex was had."
-----
Once again, massive shout-out to Pexels.com for providing all the images for this moodboard!
"Sypha" from Allan Franca Carmo. "Trevor" from Samad Ismayilov.

Chapter 7: You'll always be a part of me

Summary:

“Madeline, I was just telling Mother that this piece just screams evolution and creation to me.” It screams so much more, but I don’t need to get into that with you, he thought.

Truth be told, Adrian needed this piece. It had climbed inside him and found a niche made in its shape already. Art that spoke to him like this? He would even ask his mother to buy it for him if he had to. I hope I don’t have to, he thought. He would try to make it a loan, but she wouldn’t allow him to repay it of course.

“You are right,” Madeline said, “but you usually are, love. It’s called ‘Today; Become’ and it’s the newest piece from Christopher Wise."

Notes:

Oct 29-Candlelight

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lisa looked at her son fondly. It was entirely indulgent of her, but she’d just needed to see him this weekend. So she’d called him and told him she needed to buy a new artwork for one of her offices, and could he please make some time to come home?

I am glad I did, she thought, eyeing his color. He’s not eating well, as usual. She knew that he got distracted and anxious when he settled into a semester but there was something else going on with him. Lisa aimed to find out what it was by the end of today.

They’d gone shopping this morning; her excuse was needing new shoes. In reality, she wanted to buy Adrian new clothes. He hadn’t allowed her to before school started, and she knew damn well he was spending his food money on second-hand designer clothes he’d thrift. If she could get everything he needed, maybe he would resist for a while and buy actual food.

Right Lisa, just like Vlad can resist a black cape, she thought with resigned amusement.

She stifled her sigh. If only Adrian would accept their money, but he wouldn’t. He was proud and he was stubborn.

If Vlad had any idea how much Adrian needed him to see how his son was his own man and could build his own dreams… someday, she told herself. The two men loved each other so much, that barrier would be overcome someday. She just needed to be patient.

They’d made their way to the art district and Adrian had been unimpressed with the first two galleries they’d gone to. There’d been one painting Lisa had thought might work, but then Adrian had told her a little about the artist. Lisa liked to support creators who weren’t known misogynists, thank you very much.

“Here we are,” Adrian said with hope in his voice.

He used to say “Cookie!” with the same tone, she thought fondly and once again, cannot fathom how that tiny boy was this beautiful man in front of her. It’s a blessing that I am his mother. That he was given to us.

She looked at the windows of the gallery and smiled. Adrian could do this all day but she couldn’t. One more and we’ll get something to eat, she promised herself, and followed him in. The bodyguard followed discreetly.

Adrian was chatting with the greeter and turned to his mother. “Would you care for a refreshment?”

Lisa shook her head and turned to her bodyguard. “Frank, would you like anything?”

“No ma’am, but thank you,” the man said with a small smile. “I will just go ahead, if that is alright?” They’d been here several times before, and Frank knew that the only point of entry was the door they’d just come through. He would go check the rest of the gallery and return.

“Of course,” Lisa said and turned back to Adrian. “Nothing for Frank either, thank you.” She came up alongside her son and the greeter bowed.

“Lady Tepes, an honour,” the young woman said.

Lisa smiled. “Lovely to see you again Rosemarie.”

“We’ll be just fine on our own, but is Madeline around if we need anything?” Adrian asked and Rosemarie nodded. “Excellent, thank you. Good to see you.”

Lisa stepped away and headed to the hallway. She paused, waiting for Frank to return. He appeared moments later and nodded. There was no one new or unexpected waiting in the gallery and she and her son could proceed. Frank took up a casual stance at the entrance of the hallway.

Adrian and Lisa entered the vast space and turned to the right. “Ugh! Heavens! That is a bit much,” Lisa said, startled. The photograph was disturbing, bloody and unpleasant. Adrian nodded his agreement.

“That can only be Carmilla Styria’s work. I agree, it’s overdone and intently pornographic. She has no taste.” He sighed, “Unfortunately she’s also popular right now.”

They moved quickly past several of her prints and Lisa resisted closing her eyes. She understood violence and cruelty, unfortunately she’d seen more of it than she’d cared to with her work with Doctors Without Borders. This woman’s work was almost glorifying it.

Carmilla has unresolved issues, she thought, and was relieved when they moved to the next room.

The lighting in here was darker, more intimate and it felt almost womb-like. Lisa turned to the right like they usually did to make a circle through the space when she realized Adrian was not with her. Startled, she looked back and he was rooted to the spot, looking at the installation in the middle of the room.

What is it? she thought, and looked at what was captivating him so much.

It looked like smashed seashell, or maybe an opening flower with burning petals? It was hard to say really. Something interesting had been done to the surface of the metal, it bubbled and dripped down to the floor. It was big and bold, hovering like an alien being in the middle of the room.

It must be 8 feet tall, Lisa thought, and as least as wide.

Adrian stepped toward it, hand creeping up as though to pet it. He wasn’t facing her, but she could see the side of his face and she knew his expressions very well. He’s completely enthralled by it, Lisa thought, and immediately resolved to purchase it for him.

She’d only seen him look at art like this a handful of times, and each time it was beautiful. What art meant to him, gave to him, pulled from him; it was astounding, and made her very happy.

Just as he was about to touch it, he seemed to remember himself and stilled. His hand hovered as though he could feel heat coming off of it. He walked slowly around it and then she heard an excited exclamation. “Mother! Come, see this!” Lisa broke into a grin.

Looks like I won’t even have to buy it for myself and then decide I don’t like it after all, she thought.

She came around the side of the sculpture and saw him circling a plinth behind the smashed seashell artwork. It was lit by one spotlight and positioned in such a way as to suggest it was related to the burning flower. She was taken aback by it, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Adrian, that is creepy.”

He looked up, startled, “What? No, not at all! Look, Mother, look at him!”

Lisa looked, trying to give it a chance. It was a much smaller sculpture, perhaps three feet tall and a mixture of raw and polished metal. At first glance it had looked like an exploding man made of tentacles and gore.

Looking closer, she could see what she thought of as tentacles were actually tiny objects strung together like popcorn on a Christmas tree. It was still rather stark; some of those objects were grotesque, but Adrian was right. There was something here, raw, visceral and intriguing.

“Can you see it?” Her son asked with wonder in his voice. “He’s blooming, evolving, burgeoning. He’s struggling to become something else, something more.” Lisa looked at Adrian, pale, golden and enchanting in the stark light. “I wonder,” he said as his fingers played along the edge of the plinth. She knew he wanted to touch it, needed to.

“Does he even know if it will be better or worse?” There was such a wealth of emotion in his voice. “Does he care? Or is it the journey itself? The unknown within his own bones, and the temptation, the fear, the desire, to find out?”

This will be the gallery’s lucky day, Lisa thought, watching her child speak with such insight and sensitivity. He needed this piece too and this one he could actually put in his apartment.

“What will he do? What will he become?” he said softly. Adrian didn’t know it but his mother saw everything in him in that moment and her heart ached.

You will make it to the other side my dearest, Lisa thought, you are so strong and you have such hope. Give yourself time.

----

Adrian rarely bought for himself. Even rarer still did he buy through a gallery. It was expensive and elitist, and he would rather commission directly and ensure that the artist received every penny.

That being said, he frequently found himself consulting for his mother and father’s collections and gradually, many of their friends. He appreciated that artists could find exposure and wide-stream audiences through galleries. They were a necessary evil.

Ones such as this one weren’t even that bad, their commissions were reasonable and their staff genuinely cared about their artists. He was very familiar with this gallery, so when he saw the coiffed brunette approaching around the sculpture, he turned and smiled. “Madeline, how are you?”

“Alucard! Darling!” She grinned and clasped his hands. She bowed to Lisa, considerably more formal, and said, “Lady Tepes, you are a vision. It is always a pleasure and an honor.”

“Madeline, I was just telling Mother that this piece just screams evolution and creation to me.” It screams so much more, but I don’t need to get into that with you, he thought.

Truth be told, Adrian needed this piece. It had climbed inside him and found a niche made in its shape already. Art that spoke to him like this? He would even ask his mother to buy it for him if he had to. I hope I don’t have to, he thought. He would try to make it a loan, but she wouldn’t allow him to repay it of course.

“You are right,” Madeline said, “but you usually are, love. It’s called ‘Today; Become’ and it’s the newest piece from Christopher Wise."

“I haven’t heard of him; he must be very new.” He’s been aching to touch it, and finally gave in. He knew it was a dead giveaway, but counted on his friendship with Madeline to mean she wouldn’t add 10% because it his desire for it was obvious. “Madeline, may I?” His fingers hovered near one extended tendril.

She grinned, knowing a sale when she saw it. “Of course, sweetie you go right ahead. Just mind the raw parts, I don’t want you to cut yourself.” Adrian smiled.

“What can you tell me about him?” he asked, fingers dancing over the metal. It was smoothly ground and polished to a dull sheen on the figure, but the spiky fronds and offshoots were jagged and raw, piled in little offerings that stretched from the figure.

It was almost sexual, almost violent, almost sad. It was hopeful, it was liberated, it was brave. It vibrated under his hands and he could swear he felt the artist smoldering inside of it.

I’ve seen the essence of this work before, he thought and couldn’t place it. It’ll come to me.

“Actually, not a hell of a lot!” Madeline laughed. “He’s young, an orphan and has been doing art his whole life. He’s new to the scene, and we only have had a handful of his works so far. I’ve met him briefly and he is interesting. Attractive in a rugged sort of way.”

Ah, secretive, Adrian thought with pleasure. He respected the need for privacy in an artist. It was something he constantly wished for and fought to obtain, but never really had.

“Where was he trained? How did you find him?” he asked, fingers climbing the little objects in the branches.

Madeline lowered her voice and looked around conspiratorially. It was amusing as they were the only ones in the space. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure. That was something I asked Eddie about, and he said that Wise told him, and I quote, ‘that’s for people to wonder and me to know. They either like it or they don’t.’”

Eddie was the gallery owner and a sweet man. Adrian had enjoyed several fascinating conversations with him and more than once thought he might enjoy opening a gallery based on Eddie’s insights into the process.

Adrian laughed, “I’ve been encountering those artists all my life. I have to say at least in this one’s defense, he has the talent to back it up! Still, very enigmatic. Mysterious men are always intriguing, are they not, Mother?”

Lady Tepes gave him a knowing smile. It certainly had worked for her. He loved the story of how she’d confronted his father, and immediately been attracted to his cryptic and private aura.

“You know, you should have received an invitation to Wise’s opening about a month ago,” Madeline whipped out her phone and tapped in a command. “I’ve made a note to make sure you get it. If you like this, you should come back in two weeks for it. It’s joint with one of our other up-and-coming artists, Carmilla Styria.” Adrian wrinkled his nose.

“Oh Madeline, why? Don’t put her overwrought and frankly over-bloodied photographs beside his work, that’s a travesty!” Adrian knew he was pouting but he couldn’t help it. It was wrong to put such completely different artists together and anyone could see that. Joint showings should compliment and enhance, not war with and overpower.

“I am all for expressing emotions through art, but her work is so deliberately extreme and even cruel! It will completely overpower the subtlety and grace of Wise’s work. Furthermore, anyone can see th— Wait, that was Hector’s call, wasn’t it?”

Madeline nodded her head sympathetically and Adrian sighed, biting back the remainder of his comment. Edgar hired Hector, the new art director about 6 months ago. Adrian had mixed reviews on the man’s work, but really liked him as a person. Like Adrian, Hector was incredibly sensitive to the spirit within artworks. As a bonus, he seemed to really care and respect the artists’ emotional involvement with their work.

Unfortunately, Hector also seemed extremely prone to favoring tortured and bloody works. Adrian didn’t know a lot about Hector’s personal history, but it seemed to be impacting his work in an ill-fated way. The painter clucked, “While he’s been spot on about some talent, he definitely has a weakness for others.”

His mother spoke, “I have to say, I would come to see Wise’s work, but I would leave because of Styria’s.”

Madeline leaned in and lowered her voice. “I wouldn’t normally share this, so please keep it to yourselves… but Styria was furious. She said that her work would be cheapened by being exhibited with Wise and he would be piggybacking on her talent.” Adrian scoffed, insulted on Wise's behalf. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his mother’s amused smile.

What? he thought. That’s clearly ridiculous. Her work cheapens itself!

“Granted, Styria is an established artist," Madeline continued, "and Wise isn’t. Hector felt that their work spoke to each other and would appeal to the same audience. Carmilla’s displeasure hasn’t made it back to Wise yet, and I have to say, I am intensely curious how that might play out.”

That settles it, Adrian thought. He would attend, if only to support this artist who would be relatively new but merited recognition. He didn’t want the man to be put off by undeserved egos such as Carmilla’s and frankly, he was very curious to meet someone who could create two pieces such as this.

“Please make sure that I receive an invitation, I would like very much to attend,” he said calmly.

Adrian didn’t know it, but inside Madeline was congratulating herself on dropping just the right tidbit to have one of the Tepes attend. It would double the press coverage and if Adrian could wrangle his father into attending it would be exposure they couldn’t afford to pass up.

Besides, Madeline was curious to see Adrian interact with Wise. Adrian was so polished and contained, while Wise was brash and charming. One of the best parts of her job was watching people who had nothing in common bond over art that spoke to something buried deep within both of them.

Two hours later, Adrian struggled with the glee that threatened to overflow his composure, and the deep sense of resignation that his mother would casually drop five figures on art for him. “I just want to say again, that I intend to repay you for—”

“Alucard Addrine Tepes. If I have not raised you to graciously accept a gift then I have failed as a mother. If you want to thank me, you’ll show me that I haven’t.” Lisa gave him an arched brow and a withering glare. It had worked when he was ten and broke his father’s telescope, and it worked now. “Eat your salad.”

“Yes Mother,” Adrian said, and dutifully picked at his shrimp and avocado salad. After a moment Lisa sighed.

“Look at me Adrian,” she said and he looked up at his mother. She was so lovely, especially with the soft flicker of the candlelight between them. Strong features, kind eyes, her hair was a silvery blonde and cleverly bound up. There was intelligence in her gaze and thoughtfulness in the pensive twist of her lips. “I don’t pretend to understand everything about you. I don’t need to. Part of the wonder and magic of raising a child is understanding that they will humble you, stagger you, infuriate you and challenge you every minute of every day. I am happy to say you always have, and I know you always will.”

“Especially that infuriate part,” Adrian murmured, and his mother laughed; a full rich sound filled with joy.

“I wouldn’t say especially but you keep me on my toes. Anyway, what I wanted to say was that I don’t want to pretend that I know every reason why you are so flustered by accepting what comes with being a Tepes, but I do respect it. It took me years to be comfortable with it and sometimes, even now, it can make me squirm. The only person it doesn’t is your father, and I think it comes down to personality.”

“Confidence,” Adrian said softly, averting his eyes. It was the one thing he wished he’d inherited and seemed to have completely missed.

“And ego,” his mother chuckled, “which Vlad has in spades.” She sobered, “But you do have his pride and that can make it hard. Please understand, you ask for very little, my darling child. To see you happy and truly pleased with something like Wises’ work? That is the gift. The money to make it happen is just a by-product. It’s the result, your happiness; that is the treasure.” She extended her hand to him across the table, offering the contact, but not taking it.

Adrian flushed. It was hard to be honest in the face of such love. “I just wish…well, it doesn’t matter. Thank you, Mother, thank you for being so generous to me.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. He squeezed and quickly let go.

“Whatever you were going to say? It matters. Your wishes matter. To me, to your father, to your friends.” Lisa looked at her son as he concentrated on his salad, and inwardly sighed. He was so contained sometimes. She resumed her salad too. It was a surprise to both of them when he spoke again in barely a whisper, despite the private room they’d been given.

“I wish that we weren’t as wealthy and successful as we are. That is why I feel guilty. I have it by extension, not because I actually did a damn thing for it. But I can’t be grateful for it.” He put his fork down and clenched his hand.

“No, instead, I resent it. I hate that it gets in the way of being accepted for the things I do, the person I am. That I never know if I am being judged for me or the perception of Alucard Tepes.” His eyes slowly came up. “I feel horrible saying that, it’s so selfish and ugly, but it is just how I feel.”

Lisa stood up, and he watched her stand with apprehension, sure that she would leave. After all, he’d basically just said that he resented his parents for who they were. For their lives. He should have known better.

Lisa rounded the table, knelt beside him and gently embraced him. Something inside Adrian shifted and cracked open. He started to cry and hugged her back, so hard he was sure he was hurting her, but she only tightened her grip. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. Let it go; let it out.”

Her acceptance of his tears allowed the full dump to tumble forth. Like leaves falling off an autumn tree, emotions cascaded off of him and into this space of their arms. Between hiccups and tears, his apologies, regrets and self-loathing rained down alongside their physical manifestation. Lisa stroked his hair and listened to him. Adrian didn’t know it, but much of what he said was not a surprise to her, and only confirmed suspicions she’d had years ago.

“I just wish I could make peace with it,” Adrian sniffed. “I wish I could be confident either way. Accepting that it doesn’t define me, and not allowing people to wield it over me. I feel like it has power because deep down inside I know I don’t belong in Father’s world, but I don’t belong in the one I am trying to make for myself either. I know Father is disappointed that I won’t—”

“Wait,” Lisa spoke for the first time, drawing back to look at Adrian, “did he tell you that?”

“Mother, you know he wouldn’t actually—” Adrian looked at her, throat full of emotions.

“So you know what he thinks now?” Lisa asked him, voice gentle. “Not even I can profess to read his mind, Adrian. If you want to know, you need to ask him. Don’t do this to either of you. Don't give yourself grief and distance between you without basis.” She cupped his chin.

Adrian felt like he was six years old again; fallen off his bike, having scraped his knee, and needing to know that the world was not ending. He felt safety in her hand, and recognized unconditional love in her fingertips.

“I may not know everything, but I do know your Father is proud of you. And I know that because I have heard him say so, multiple times,” Lisa’s smile was so tender that Adrian felt his tears start anew. “We both are. Take that pride to heart. You belong in our world.”

“But it is not home for you, and that is alright.” She continued, dabbing his tears with her sleeve. “You belong in the one you are creating for yourself. Like any process of growth, it can be uncomfortable and hard. Change is tough but you can do this. You are doing it. You are right where you need to be, dear one.”

Adrian snorted, “If only everyone else believed that, if only I believed it.”

If only people like Trevor Belmont didn’t immediately assume that I was riding my father’s money and name to get where I am going, he thought. He’s an asshole anyway; who cares what he thinks? He had a flash of Belmont’s intense focus on his work, and the understanding in his gaze when he said that Adrian could see the art when he gave it to Shaft for grading.

I might care, he acknowledged, and hated himself for it.

“I feel like there is a specific person you are thinking of when you say ‘everyone else,’” Lisa said, rocking back on her heels and looking at him. Whatever she must have seen satisfied her, because she stood and dragged her chair over to him so they sat knee to knee. “Sorry, old woman knees can’t take it.” She flashed a grin and Adrian had to grin back.

Old woman indeed, he thought. Both his parents seemed ageless to him. “There’s an artist in one of my classes. He and I, we don’t get along.”

Lisa cocked a brow. “I was under the impression that had happened to you before? If you’ve gone your whole life getting along with everyone, you need to tell me your secret.”

Adrian laughed. It felt good and helped to calm him further. His mother put a hand on his knee. “What is it about this artist?” she asked.

Adrian looked at the floor, “Sypha likes him. He thinks I’m a spoiled rich kid. A talentless pretty boy,” he felt his lips curl in a sneer.

“I’m sure he’s not the first. He’s wrong, but so were the other ones who thought that about you." Lisa shrugged. "What makes him special? Because Sypha likes him?”

“What do you… wait, why would Sypha liking him make a difference to whether I care what he thinks of me?” He looked at his mother, startled.

“Well, I mean, you’ve always been close to her and—” Lisa started, and Adrian interrupted her, a rare occurrence.

“No. You mean because I like her. How did you know that?” He looked at her with concern, “Is it obvious? I didn’t even really realize it myself, how…?”

Lisa’s smile was kind but knowing, “Sweetheart, sometimes what we feel is more obvious to those who love us, than it is to ourselves. Rest assured; she has no idea. But I have a feeling she might feel the same.”

Adrian flushed deeply, and muttered, “She and this artist suggested…things. About the three of us.”

Lisa’s eyebrows shot up, and then lowered just as quickly. “Alright. How do you feel about that?”

Terrified, excited, uncertain, desperately interested, unbelievably aroused, he thought in rapid-fire succession. “I don’t know,” he said feeling the flames in his cheeks, and hating it. “I am uncertain… but maybe, I uh, that is…”

“You might be interested? It doesn’t have to be a big deal, you are all adults and…” she looked at her son, “Ah. You are thinking for the long-term. Wondering what it might look like, how that might work.”

“You are entirely too perceptive,” Adrian muttered and flicked his eyes up at her.

Thank goodness she wasn’t freaking out, but still, this was as embarrassing as the sex talk he had with her when he was thirteen. Really how does one talk about having a threesome with their mother? A long-term one at that too!

“I think you have those conversations up front and go from there. You see what they are thinking in that regard and then decide if it lines up with what you want. Whatever makes you happy in that situation is the right decision,” Adrian looked at her, searching her face for a sign that she disapproved or was horrified. He didn’t find it. It gave him the courage to ask the next question.

“Please, do you think…” he closed his eyes, “Would Father be able to handle it? If it was long-term? I know he loves me and wants me to be happy but scandal…”

“Adrian,” he opened his eyes to his mother’s accepting gaze. “I can’t speak for him, but I can say that you’ve always been extremely private. Nothing you’ve ever done has embarrassed or shamed us.”

Adrian arched his brow, and she grinned. “That naked run doesn’t count. You were five, let it go.”

The painter snickered. He’d escaped his minder, and run into the living room after a bath. His father had been in the middle of a live interview with CNN. Half the nation was treated to his bare butt as he tried to hide in his father’s cape from the hissed dismay of his nanny. Hearing Vlad re-tell the story was one of his favorite things. His father would laugh until he cried if you let him talk about it too long.

They grinned at each other before Lisa continued. “You don’t have to explain your romantic relationships to anyone. Including me. I am so happy you trust me enough to talk about it, but you don’t owe anyone an explanation. What you do with your life—any aspect of it— is your business. Obviously, I never want to see you hurt yourself, or engage in unhealthy behavior, but that isn’t this. Really, it’s your call. Follow your heart.”

“And if my heart doesn’t know?” he asked her, and Lisa broke into an easy smile.

“Then I would say listen to your body. If you want something bad enough, usually your heart and your body figure it out together,” she reached over and broke her dinner roll, offering him half.

“Really? You aren’t going to tell me to listen to my brain?” Adrian was surprised, taking half of the roll. His mother was very medically, logically oriented. This was completely unexpected.

“Not this time,” she said easily, “your brain is getting in the way of making a balanced decision. Sometimes we need to turn it off to get to what we really want or need.”

Adrian exhaled deeply and nodded. His mother looked at him a moment longer and stood again. He rose with her and gave her another hug. When he drew back, he kissed her on the cheek. “I really love you. Thank you.”

“I love you too. So much," Lisa stroked his cheek. "So tell me about this artist." Her blonde eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

"Would I like him?” Lisa asked, settling back in her chair and picking up her fork.

Adrian rolled his eyes and laughed, “He’s a gorgeous jerk.” He took his seat and his mother lifted her glass of wine.

“The best kind,” she said, and toasted him.

--- 

I walk along the city streets, you used to walk along with me
And every step I take reminds me of just how we used to be
Oh, how can I forget you, girl, when there is
Always something there to remind me
When shadows fall, I pass a small cafe where we would dance at night
And I can't help recalling how it felt to kiss and hold you tight
Oh, how can I forget you, girl, when there is
Always something there to remind me
I was born to love her and I will never be free
You'll always be a part of me
-“Always Something There to Remind Me,” Naked Eyes

Notes:

I hope all parents can find the words they need to with their kids. Whew.
Next chapter should be more light-hearted fun. Stick with me and Happy Halloween!
---
"Lisa" from Alexander Krivitskiy, "Adrian" photographer unknown, model is Konan Hanbury

Chapter 8: I have stood here before inside the pouring rain

Summary:

“Trevor,” Sypha said softly, putting her hand on his arm, “you know that your family doesn’t define you, right? Money or lack of it; it doesn’t make you less worthy.”

“Of course, that’s just… I meant that I don’t want him to think I am open to the trio idea, because of his family’s money.” Frankly, I wish he didn’t have any, it would make this whole thing a good deal easier, the sculptor thought. “I don’t even give a shit about it.”

Sypha looked at him, and he felt a little too naked, a little too seen. “Trevor, if you don’t give a shit about it, than why should it matter if you apply for it? You can do it anonymously and—”

“Damn it Sypha! I already did okay? And I got it." Trevor growled, frustrated. "Bloody Vlad Tepes is paying for my school, and I hate it. Adrian can never know, never. And I can’t apply again and risk him knowing. He'll think I'm interested in his money, not him."

Notes:

Oct 30-Promptober

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Trevor threw his duffel down and charged across the threshold to scoop Sypha up in his arms. “We are going out!! I am buying you the best burrito in town and a margarita to go with it! Then I am going down on you until you go blind!”

Sypha grinned and wrapped her bare legs around his waist. She wiggled enticingly. “That all sounds fabulous, especially dessert, but what is going on?”

“I sold TWO pieces of art! Big ones!! I have enough money now to...” Trevor belatedly caught himself, and fumbled. “Uh, treat you to supper.”

Some of Sypha’s sparkle dimmed, and Trevor cursed his thoughtless slip. “I’d rather you just say you aren’t ready to tell me, then have you lie to me,” she said quietly.

He looked at her and debated, settling for the middle ground. “Yes, I am sorry, you are right. I am not ready to tell you the whole thing, but I will tell you some of it.” She nodded with a gentle smile and he set her down. Picking up his duffel, he came further into the apartment and set it down. Sypha closed the door behind him and he looked at her.

“Anyone else here right now?” He asked.

She lived with two other women and while they seemed nice, Trevor didn’t want them to hear him. Sypha shook her head and sat down on the couch, holding her hand out to him. He wanted to go to her but he needed to see her face when he told her, needed to know that she didn’t think poorly of him.

“I’m an orphan. I have nothing and nobody.” He raked his hands through his hair, eyes on hers. “What Adrian said about the Belmonts' being forgers is true, and one of the reasons I had to fight to get here. Even then, I wasn’t sure I could afford to stay.”

Sypha’s brows merged, and she murmured in distress. “No don’t do that,” Trevor told her, “I don’t want pity and I don’t want charity. I don’t need it. I have made it, and I am here.”

“Anyway, with this money, I can finish next year for sure. I have a scholarship that I’ve been stretching to make it work, but this means that I won’t have to go back to fighting. I could do it, but juggling everything is exhausting and hard. Last time I fought, I busted my hand and I can’t risk that happening again. Not when I’ve finally gotten to where I want to be in my art.”

“Trevor,” Sypha stood slowly and came around the coffee table. “That sounds horrible. No one should have to go through that.” He started to growl about pity, and she put her hand over his mouth. “That’s not pity, that’s just a fact. Wouldn’t you think the same if I told you I had broken my hand for the sake of my art?”

I’d be furious, he thought instantly, feeling the delicate bones in her hand as she removed her palm from his lips. Sypha is better than that though, he thought, she is smarter than I am and she came from a family that would never do what mine did.

“The point is, I don’t have to worry about that next year,” he finished.

“What about your final year, Trevor? What are you planning to do to pay for that?” Sypha asked him, worry in her eyes. “You aren’t going back to fighting, ever. Your body is not a piece of meat to be pounded.”

Trevor arched his brows at her, “Are you sure? That seemed to be exactly what you were going for yesterday when you attempted to fuck me into the basement of the—”

My point is,” Sypha said loudly over him, shaking her head and grinning, “that you don’t need to do that and I don’t want you to!”

“We’ll see. I am hopeful I might be able to sell some more pieces, or maybe get more scholarships next year. The one I got this year covered a helluva lot more than just tuition. I’ve been careful, and so far, I’ve stretched it nicely.”

“If you need it, could you get a loan?” Sypha asked him.

Trevor was amused, “You are adorable, but not a chance. I will never be able to get credit as Trevor Belmont. Not with my family history. Besides,” his face grew serious. “I don’t want to be in debt. I don’t ever want to owe anyone anything, ever.” Sypha looked thoughtful for a moment, and then firmed her lips.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but hear me out.”

Trevor resisted grinning. She was so serious. If she knew how he was thinking she was ridiculously fuckable when she lectured, she would likely punch him. “There is a scholarship that I think would be relatively easy for you to apply for. You could do it anonymously and the award is huge.”

“The Tepes scholarship,” Trevor said, scowling. “Yes, I am aware of it. Why that one?”

Sypha hesitated, and then said in a small rush, “If Adrian knew that you needed the help, I know he would—”

“No. No fucking way, Sypha. Adrian can never know about my financial issues. He already thinks Belmonts are trash, that would just prove him right.” It tumbled out before he really thought about it, and they both stared at each other.

“Trevor,” Sypha said softly, putting her hand on his arm, “you know that your family doesn’t define you, right? Money or lack of it; it doesn’t make you less worthy.”

“Of course, that’s just… I meant that I don’t want him to think I am open to the trio idea because of his family’s money.” Frankly, I wish he didn’t have any, it would make this whole thing a good deal easier, the sculptor thought. “I don’t even give a shit about it.”

Sypha looked at him, and he felt a little too naked, a little too seen. “Trevor, if you don’t give a shit about it, than why should it matter if you apply for it? You can do it anonymously and—”

“Damn it Sypha! I already did okay? And I got it. Vlad fucking Tepes is paying for my school and I fucking hate it. Adrian can never know, never. And I can’t apply again and risk him knowing. He'll think I'm interested in his money, not him.”

Sypha’s eyes went wide and she stared at him for a long moment. “You won this year? What name did you apply under?”

“C. Leon, my middle initial and my great-grandfather’s first name. Look, why does this matter?” Sypha sat down on the couch, utter shock on her face.

Great, Trevor thought, she thinks I am a hypocrite, she thinks I am a money-grabbing gold digger, she thinks—

“Trevor this is awesome!” She looked up at him, excitement and happiness etched across her face. “You don’t even realize what this means! You must tell Adrian! You don’t understand, he—

“No!” Panic bubbled up in Trevor and he got angry.

“Are you just not listening? I don’t want Adrian to know! Do you honestly think that he would ever consider being with me long term, knowing that I needed his Daddy’s money to get into this school? That he wouldn’t just laugh when we suggest he consider getting into bed with someone so poor that they accepted money that they mocked?"

"No, Sypha,” he turned from her, furious, all joy from the sale stripped away. “Not a chance. Fuck, what was I ever thinking? You made it seem so straightforward, so possible,” Trevor felt all his loneliness and self-doubt push it’s way up out of the grave he kept it in. Like a damned zombie, it just wouldn’t die.

“A man like that could have anyone he wants. Why would he be interested in me. What a joke.”

“Trevor, shut the fuck up.” She said it so mildly, and calmly, that his head snapped up. Sypha was standing again, cut off shorts paired with yellow leg warmers, a Hello Kitty t-shirt and a plaid headband. Her arms were crossed and she looked at him with a steady gaze. He’d been less intimidated by steroid-pushing, testosterone-fueled fighters in bare knuckle fights.

“What utter horse shit.” She continued, still calm, eyes on him. “You need to pay attention the next time you see him. The man wants you, and you’ve been an utter dick to him. He knows your family history, tussled with you in the cafeteria, argued with you in the drawing room, and still stripped down to his fucking sexy-as-hell briefs and pranced around in front of you. He wants to jump your bones so hard, or I never would have proposed that the trio could work.”

“His fucking Gucci briefs,” Trevor murmured, remembering. “They are damn sexy. And annoying. How is that possible?”

Sypha laughed, and it eased the tension. “I think you are outrageously sexy, but that doesn’t change how densely annoying you can be.” She sighed. “I don’t want to argue but I want you to think about it. At some point, you need to tell him. If he finds out from someone else, it will be much worse than if you tell him first. And no, I won’t tell him, but honestly Trevor, lies are never a lasting foundation for anything.”

---

“How was shopping with your mom?” Sypha asked Adrian, lying back to look at the sky. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining. They’d found a quiet spot with shade from some lilac bushes for Adrian, but enough sun for Sypha. She was grateful she’d worn the tiny shorts under her sundress or she would have been flashing anyone who walked by. Flashing Adrian was fine, but he wasn’t ready for that level of flirting yet.

“Um, it was good.”

Like the view? She thought and contained her grin. Casually, she shifted and the hem of her skirt inched upward.

“Did you buy anything? I was thinking yesterday that I wanted to buy something lacy; did you see any lingerie sales while you were out and about?” Easy there, girl, she told herself and tried to be calm.

“What? Uh, no. No, I didn’t see any... um, sales.” She heard him shifting and fancied he was making vital adjustments. “Did you—,” he cleared his throat. “Did you get anywhere with Belmont?” Sypha shivered with anticipation, and it wasn’t an act.

“Holy Adrian, did I ever!” She finally took pity on him, and sat up, enjoying how there was a faint blush on his cheeks and the speed with which his eyes snapped up to hers. Demurely, she settled her skirt over her knees.

“Let me tell you, that man has stamina, and he is through. Whew, is he ever. You should take him up on his invitation sometime, for real.”

Adrian’s eyes went huge. “You think he was serious?!” he squeaked, and Sypha resisted clucking like a mother hen and gathering him in her arms.

Oh sweetheart, she thought, he is gonna rock your world. We are gonna fuck you until you explode in glittering rainbows of orgasms.

“I know he was; he thinks you are hot,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. “He’s not wrong.”

Adrian’s blush bloomed like he’d been slapped in the face. It made her wonder if his ass would do the same thing if she spanked him. An image of offering her ass alongside Adrian’s to Trevor to spank burned itself into her mind.

Slow down there, she told herself and resisted whining. She needed to rein this in, but knowing now that he wanted her and he wanted Trevor? That was pure temptation and she was ready to sin.

“How can you be alright with, um, the possibility of sharing?” Adrian was very intently looking at his French fries. “I thought you liked Belmont? As more than a one-time thing?”

“I do, very much. I’m comfortable with sharing Trevor but only if it’s with you. And vice versa. I would only share you with him. Speaking of sharing, he and I were talking about looking at apartments next semester.” Adrian’s head jerked up and he looked dismayed. Ah shit, Sypha thought unhappily.

“I like the twins, but it would be nice not to split the water bill with them anymore. I swear, they take 45 minute showers twice a day!” She debated and added, “We could always look for a three-bedroom place you know. I just didn’t think—"

Adrian shook his head. “No, that is alright. I just—we’d talked about… it’s okay.”

“We talked about being roommates.” Sypha said, and saw him nod. “I would still do that in a heartbeat. I still want that. I just wanted to respect your space, but if you want to share an apartment and Trevor, I am all for it. There is much we can all offer each other, in a lot of different ways.”

Adrian looked like he was going to have a heart attack, and she scaled it back. “Anyway, there is no pressure from either Trevor or I. You have lots to think about now, and plenty of time to do it. This semester has barely started, but the offer stands. Moving on. Tell me what was the best purchase of the day with your mom?”

She could almost see him struggling to switch gears and internally cheered. Think about it, Adrian, it makes sense, she thought, we could all be extremely happy. Soooo much happy, you don't even know.

“There were actually two best purchases of the day,” he said slowly, dipping a fry in ketchup and bringing it up to his mouth. “Two sculptures that I am now the proud owner of.”

“Ooooo, art purchases! The best kind!” Sypha chortled, diverted and excited. “Spill!”

Adrian grinned, and they were back on solid ground. “They are masterpieces and they are stunning. I am going to follow this artist's career so closely! I had to leave them for the art show happening in two weeks. That reminds me, what are you up to, not this Friday but the next?”

“Going to an art show with you and fawning over art while drinking wine I could never afford on my own?” Sypha quipped, already thrilled.

“Excellent, I was hoping you’d say that.” Adrian rubbed his hands together in mock deviousness. “I think this artist could use some support and I am dying to meet him. You wouldn't believe who they are showing his work with. Hector has lost his mind this time…”

---

Trevor was late for class and he fucking hated that. He was late because he’d been thinking about his conversation with Sypha regarding the Tepes' scholarship. About relationship foundations, desire which was rapidly building into need, and the possibility of a future. It’d been foolish and it’d been dumb, but when the notion struck him to buy a bag of French Onion Sun chips he’d just gone with it.

Of course, they hadn’t had them the first two places he’d gone, and they were stupidly marked up at the last place. He’d bought them anyway, and resigned himself to the discount fruit and veggies the next time he went grocery shopping. Trevor had flat-out ran back to the art building.

He was still ten fucking minutes late.

He took the steps three at a time, paused at the door to breathe and take the chips out of his bag. The sculptor didn’t want to make a big deal about them and certainly didn’t want the crinkly noises of extracting them from his bag to disrupt the class. Quietly he slipped in the dark room, keeping his eyes down. Facing the door so he could shut it soundlessly, he heard Adrian talking about the emotions that were captured inside the empty space.

When he turned around, he dropped the chips in shock. Adrian looked over, but didn’t stop talking. “As you can see, the use of spatial form in Wise’s work is stunning.” The blonde indicated a promotional shot of Trevor’s ‘Wait and See,’ sculpture.

One of the ones I just sold, the sculptor thought. He wished fervently that he had not been late. What had he missed; what was Adrian doing?!

“The tension in the piece, the relationship with the viewer—it's delicate. Exquisite. You can feel the strain to evolve, to move forward and shed the weight of this form.” Trevor gasped.

How can Tepes see that?! he wondered, disbelief clenching his stomach. That was uncomfortably accurate, but the idea that Adrian, of all people saw that? He didn’t know what to think. Trevor felt horribly exposed, stripped, and shaken by the TA's words.

“Christopher has exceptional mastery of his medium. The balance with the empty space, or what we would term ‘the void,’ has been outstandingly rendered and cleverly executed.” Adrian looked at the slide and smiled, admiration in his voice. “Wise’s eye for balance, and brilliant construction of his piece are spectacular.”

Thank God for this door, Trevor thought as he sagged against it; mind complete chaos as astonishment rolled through him. For a split second he had wondered if Adrian knew it was him, and was making a joke. He’d discarded that idea right away. His comments were too unguarded, too candid, and too complimentary. There was no way he knew it was Trevor he was talking about.

Pleasure bloomed in the sculptor. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say such things about my work, he thought. I’ve never had anyone see so much in it.

“The viewer is left questioning what they need to release from themselves, and what they would be willing to do, to gain that perfection of completion.” Adrian tucked his hair behind his ear and Trevor’s stomach clenched. The painter had a tiny gold hoop tragus piercing. It was sexy as fuck.

The things I would be willing to do, Trevor thought, looking at the hoop. Wondering what else Adrian might have pierced. Wondering about what the TA needed to release. Trevor wondered if he might see it, taste it, feel it someday.

“It’s needful, sensual, raw. At the same time there’s an aching vulnerability to it,” Adrian continued, and glanced at Trevor. The sculptor’s desire spiked hard. He could swear there was a faint blush on Adrian’s cheeks, but it was too dark to tell. 

The TA laughed, rueful frustration in his voice. “I haven’t been able to find out much about him so far, but I hope to have some more examples of his work at a later date. I think there is much we could learn from exploring his creative process and analyzing what makes it so successful. In the meantime, here are a couple more examples of other artists’ use of space and texture.”

Trevor stayed where he was, unsure he could move without the support of the door. It was like the universe was playing a trick on him, making fun of him and giving him hope when he should know better. Adrian saw his art and saw what was in it.

Trevor would be lying if he didn’t admit how deeply touched he was by the things Tepes had said. By the staggering revelation of his words. By how much they mattered to him.

There was a quiet, throat-clearing sound beside him and Trevor jerked to attention. There was an older man seated to his left, about five feet away. The man was positively glaring at him, and as Trevor watched, he stood and approached him. “Step outside,” the man said in a low voice, and Belmont gave him a look.

Who the fuck are you? he thought and bristled.

“If you look at the use of the inverted color… ah! Professor Shaft!” The older man’s eyes flashed and Trevor stiffened.

Ah shit, he thought and his eyes flew to Adrian. The TA had an easy smile, as the class turned toward the pair by the door. “Oh! And Trevor so good to see you! I didn’t have a chance to email you back. I apologize, it went into my spam folder and I only found it right before class. Thank you for letting me know about your lab interview today. You weren’t as late as you thought you’d be; it went well?”

Trevor nodded dumbly. He’s covering for me, he thought. Between that and words like clever, brilliant and mastery, Trevor was pretty much putty right now.

If Adrian had asked him to blow him in front of the class, he would have done it. Who are you kidding, you would have before today, he thought and wasn't sure he was joking.

“Excellent, I am glad to hear it.” Adrian’s long hands fluttered. “Please take a seat. I know those interviews are almost impossible to schedule, so I am glad we could accommodate. Professor Shaft, did you want to introduce yourself to everyone?”

Trevor didn’t imagine the low snarl from the older man and winced. This was a fucking nightmare. He hoped Adrian wouldn’t suffer too much for this. Suddenly he wished he’d bought 18 more bags of chips. Trevor nodded to the professor, and slid into the same seat he occupied last time.

The professor stalked to the front of the class and tersely introduced himself. Trevor watched Adrian instead of the teacher, and felt his heart sink when he saw the twisting fingers. I managed to fuck this up even worse, he thought and heaved a sigh.

Quietly, he did his best to be a model student and even engaged in the class discussion on how space functioned within the drapery pieces from last week.

When Adrian asked if anyone would be willing to share their artwork for discussion and critique, Trevor hesitated but then decided he would. He owed the TA and besides, he didn’t care about his drawings, so long as he passed.

I already heard everything I could ever hope to about the art that matters most to me, Trevor thought and felt his heart trip all over again. He waited too long and another student beat him to the punch.

“Sure, why not,” Hugh said, and passed his rolled up drawing over.

“Ah! Thank you, Hugh; that is great. Here we go,” the TA unrolled the piece and clipped it to the easel nearest him before turning it around. “Um, Trevor? Could you hit the lights please?”

“Absolutely,” Trevor responded and hopped up. He caught the sour glare of Professor Shaft and thanked his lucky stars that Adrian was grading this class and not this asshole. He would have failed for sure. A week ago he was undecided on how he felt about that. Now he was just grateful.

He hit the lights and turned back to the class discussion. Hugh had clearly still struggled with the light source, but Trevor could see a delicacy in the rabbit’s fur that indicated a good eye for detail. He put up his hand and waited. And waited. Twice he saw Adrian look directly at him, and pass over him.

He’s intentionally avoiding me, what the fuck? Trevor thought, annoyed and confused. He covered for me. Why would he skip over me?

Trevor’s irritation built. It’s not like I am going to say something unhelpful, he thought, and then realized that Adrian would have no way of knowing that. So when there was a break in the conversation, Trevor just spoke. “The rendering of the fur is well done, especially around the ears. The light in that part of the fur is angled perfectly and Hugh really captured the softness of the material with his shading.”

Adrian’s jaw had dropped. Abruptly, he snapped it shut, and Trevor couldn’t help his smirk. Maybe I should be nice more often, he thought, enjoying the look of surprise.

“Awww, thanks Belmont!” Hugh chirped and Trevor grinned at the man.

When he looked back at Adrian, the TA was looking at Professor Shaft and his hands were clasped tightly. He looked away from the professor, but Trevor felt his anxiety even in the back of the room, and knew something was coming. What did I do now? he wondered.

“Excuse me,” came the graveled voice of the professor from behind Trevor, once the class started talking again. Trevor turned, and looked at the man, dread climbing in his stomach. “Are you affiliated with the Belmont International Gallery?”

Son of a bitch, Trevor thought, helpless. “Not really, no.”

“Let me re-phrase. Are you related to that Belmont family?” Professor Shaft asked him, eyes like black holes sucking Trevor into them. Trevor felt his temper rise and was saved from responding by a knock on the door.

--- 

There's a fossil that's trapped in a high cliff wall, that's my soul up there
There's a dead salmon frozen in a waterfall, that's my soul up there
There's a blue whale beached by a springtide's ebb, that's my soul up there
There's a butterfly trapped in a spider's web, that's my soul up there
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain

-"King of Pain," The Police

Notes:

I know technically Promptober is done but let's all just stay in the Halloween spirit for a couple more days so I can say that I did Promptober? That'd be great, thanks :P
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I want to give a big thank you to Armouredescort and TurtlefromHell for their continued championing of this work. I'm writing this as I go, without an outline because I am foolish, and the pace has been hard. Their excitement, comments and encouragement have directly contributed to how quickly I have been able to bring this work to you. You should stop by and check out their work, they are talented and incredible authors. Thanks to both of you, so much!
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Pixaby and Pexels are single-handedly the biggest contributors to my moodboards. I love them because I know that every photo I use has been approved by the artist for free use and their databases are huge. Check them out for your own projects! :)

Chapter 9: Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

Summary:

Thank you God, Adrian thought and strode forward. He wrenched the door open with anticipation, praying for a fire drill. Two men stood before him. The one who’d knocked was tall, Adrian’s height and well-proportioned. His face was collected and impassive with a fierce intelligence in his guarded eyes. Adrian instantly wanted to paint him. There was something utterly still within him, like a predator lying in wait.

The man accompanying him was incredibly white, like he didn’t know what the sun was, and had spiky red hair. He was fidgeting, and it only accentuated the utter stillness of his companion. Adrian was instantly reminded of a toddler told to wait.

“Yes? May I help you?” Adrian asked them.

“Belmont,” came the cool, calm voice of the man who had knocked. “We would like to speak to Trevor Belmont.”

Notes:

Oct 31- Hunt

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

This is bad, this is so bad, Adrian thought. Trevor couldn’t have picked a worse day to be late or to decide he wants to play nice. Professor Shaft was rigid about attendance. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Hugh used his last name and Belmont wasn’t exactly a common one.

I should have warned him from the beginning, I should have told him Shaft didn’t see his late registration, I should have…

He watched Professor Shaft lean over and whisper something to Trevor. He didn’t hear it but Belmont’s face went hard. Oh no, oh please Trevor, don’t… Adrian begged silently. Shaft rubber stamped his grading but the professor would make an exception for the Belmont.

Shaft had made a name for himself writing the definitive book on a set of Bruges paintings that had been discovered and sold through the Belmont International Gallery.

He’d dined off it for over a decade and when the Belmont forgeries were discovered, his reputation as a serious art scholar had been very damaged. It didn’t matter that the paintings were eventually exonerated, he hated the Belmont clan. The professor had written a series of blistering articles on the damage they’d done to the art world and the credibility of art scholarship.

Adrian had already pushed the envelope with Shaft today when he asked him to come introduce himself. He knew that Professor Shaft preferred not to be identifiable to his intro level students because then they wouldn’t approach him. The TA was debating how far he wanted to stick his neck out for Belmont when the knock came.

Thank you God, Adrian thought and strode forward. He wrenched the door open with anticipation, praying for a fire drill.

Two men stood before him. The one who’d knocked was tall, Adrian’s height and well-proportioned. His face was collected and impassive with a fierce intelligence in his guarded eyes. Adrian instantly wanted to paint him. There was something utterly still within him, like a predator lying in wait.

The man accompanying him was incredibly white, like he didn’t know what the sun was, and had spiky red hair. He was fidgeting, and it only accentuated the utter stillness of his companion. Adrian was instantly reminded of a toddler told to wait.

“Yes? May I help you?” Adrian asked them.

“Belmont,” came the cool, calm voice of the man who had knocked. “We would like to speak to Trevor Belmont.”

Adrian was instantly on high alert. This man seemed slightly sinister and he recognized shoulder holsters under their suits from his father’s bodyguards. “I am sorry, he is in class right now and cannot be disturbed. Perhaps you could…”

The redhead rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “For fuck’s sake, Belmont, get your ass out here or I am coming in there!”

“Godbrand.” The first man said to the redhead. That single word seemed to subdue the man somewhat.

The fidgeter grumbled and said, “Sorry Isaac, this is just bullshit that we even had to come down, he could’ve picked up the bloody p—”

Godbrand.” Isaac said and finally moved. Just a shifting of his weight, but Godbrand shut up immediately and Adrian startled slightly.

“This is highly irregular, and I—” Adrian began but felt a hand on his shoulder. His whole body tensed with anticipation. He knew without looking it was Trevor. There was only one person that made his skin heat like that.

Well, two now, he thought, recalling the incredibly indecent thoughts he’d had about Sypha’s sundress over the lunch hour.

“It’s alright Adrian; I apologize for the disruption,” Trevor didn’t remove his hand and Adrian turned to him.

They hadn’t been this close since the cafeteria. Was that really this month? Adrian wondered, so much has changed for me since then. His eyes slipped to Trevor’s mouth. For a moment he wondered, just wondered what he would taste there. Acceptance and desire, or disgust and fury? A few days ago, I would have thought I knew. Now, I am not so sure.

Trevor let go, and Adrian stepped aside to let the sculptor into the hallway. The one called Godbrand clapped a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. It wasn’t clear who was more surprised when the TA growled.

“Take your hand off of him,” Adrian snapped, and Isaac arched a brow at the blonde. Think whatever you want, the painter thought, but you don’t touch him.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” the redhead shot back, and tightened his grip on Belmont.

“Don’t make me call campus security for assault,” Adrian retorted.

Godbrand snorted, and Isaac spoke. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am Agent Isaac, this is Agent Godbrand. Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He smoothly produced a badge and showed it to the TA.

Oh shit, Adrian thought, shocked, what is going on?  Isaac started to put it away and the blonde held up his hand. “Please keep it out. I may need the numbers if I call my lawyer.” Adrian said, using his media façade to good effect. The casual command conveyed complete confidence. For the first time, Isaac registered surprise.

“What do you want with Trevor? Is he under arrest?” What is going on? Adrian finished silently.

Godbrand snarled and started to speak. “You and your lawyer can shove it right up your—.”

Isaac gave Godbrand the subtlest head shake, and then transferred his gaze to Trevor. “Belmont? May I?” the agent asked, eyes on Adrian.

Trevor sighed and said, “Adrian, it’s alright, they just want to talk to me about my family.”

But that was years ago, why now? the TA wondered. And why would they come in person?

Isaac looked at Adrian. “May I ask your name?” Trevor shook his head and stepped forward, subtly putting himself between them.

“He’s my teacher and his name is Adrian. He’s nobody.” Trevor shrugged. “Look, let’s just go. There is a lounge downstairs. You can ask me your questions there.”

Adrian felt like he’d been kneed in the guts. He’s nobody.

See, Sypha? I was right, he doesn’t give a damn about me. This is why I don’t hope for things I can’t have. Never think that someone can see beyond the Tepes name. You cannot outrun it and you cannot detach from it. “As you wish, Belmont,” Adrian murmured.

The TA was already turning back into the classroom, keenly aware that there would be hell to pay with Shaft at the end of this. And for what? Adrian asked himself. You put your livelihood and something you really enjoy on the line for a man who sees you as nothing.

He failed to see the utter misery on Belmont’s face as he closed the door.

Sure enough, when Adrian turned back from closing the door, the class fell silent and Professor Shaft paused. “I take it the police finally came for the remaining Belmont? Hardly a surprise.” Shaft sneered,“You couldn’t accept any of his work for grading anyway; everyone knows the Belmonts are frauds.”

Adrian’s temper rose sharply. He looked over at Trevor’s duffel and the roll of paper sticking out of it. I saw him creating. I saw him working. Sypha liked what she saw, and identified it as drapes. It means he has at least some skill. He’s not a fraud. His brain interjected, but you don’t know what he is, either. You only know what you aren’t to him.

Adrian took a steadying breath. “Perhaps it is best if we discussed this after class, Professor Shaft. Without an audience?” Adrian fought to keep his voice neutral. He wasn’t entirely successful and he knew it when the older man’s eyes narrowed.

“Belmont’s family history is public knowledge, Alucard, and my grading standards should be one of the first things you reviewed with this class. Or have you been neglecting your duties?”

Inexplicably, Adrian felt a lump in his throat and could only shake his head. What do I have to do to earn your respect? He thought and hated himself. He sat to the side to allow Shaft to finish speaking and sent a quick text.

---

“Godbrand, you fucking asshole. There is a reason I wasn’t calling you.” Trevor spat out, irritated and trying to ignore the rising panic working its claws into his chest. Adrian’s face haunted him and he wanted to get back to class. To explain. To apologize.

It’s not what you think, he thought again, and wished he’d answered the damn calls.

“Did you miss me, ya fucking wanker?” Godbrand sneered at Trevor, putting his foot up on the couch and leering over him.

“If you two are done with the pleasantries,” Isaac said calmly, drawing up a plastic chair and sitting neatly in it.

Trevor slouched back, deliberately trying to look calm. Will these assholes never leave me alone? he wondered. Will my parents crimes always be on me? Thankfully the lounge was empty and would stay that way, given Isaac had closed the door and locked it.

“You know why we are here,” Isaac started to say and the sculptor hissed. “It would have been simpler if you would have returned the phone calls, Trevor.”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Trevor quietly exploded. “This is fucking harassment. I don’t know anything and I never have. It’s been almost five years now, it’s over!”

“You and I both know it’s not. They never caught the arsonists and we have yet to account for all the forgeries.” Isaac paused. “Furthermore, your family refuses to cooperate with further investigation.”

“They’re not my family,” Trevor muttered. “None of them have talked to me since that night.”

“You haven’t noticed anyone suspicious following you? Any unexplained disturbances in your apartment complex or on campus?” Isaac prodded gently.

“Well, now that you mention it, there is this one guy,” Trevor said, leaning forward.

“Really?” Godbrand leaned into him, eager. “What does he look like?”

“Well, he has a voice like a lynx in heat, and he smells like a dumpster fire,” Trevor said, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Physical traits Belmont, c’mon,” Godbrand had his notepad out, and was looking at him expectantly.

“He favors cheap suits, terrible shoes and is the ugliest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.” Out of the corner of his eye Trevor could see the tiniest quirk of Isaac’s mouth. Definitely the brains of the partnership, Trevor thought, not for the first time.

“White, Black, Latino?” Godbrand prompted.

“Like Casper the fucking ghost,” Trevor supplied, “this man... at least I think he is a man… it might actually be a pile of garbage animated by a necromancer.” Godbrand narrowed his eyes. “This reanimated corpse has the weirdest red hair, like a muppet shit it out, and a face that made his mother blind herself when he was born. Children cry when he passes and puppies—"

“Think you are funny do you, Belmont?” Godbrand snapped his notepad shut. “It won’t be so funny when I haul you in for filing a false police—"

“Enough.” Isaac said simply and paused before continuing. “I understand you find these check-ins onerous Belmont, but so do we. I do not appreciate having to drive down to do this, and in the future, you will return our calls.”

Trevor felt a slight tinge of guilt. Isaac wasn't terrible, but the sculptor despised Godbrand and his shit-talk about Trevor's parents.

Isaac waited for Godbrand to sit before continuing, “Now, tell me about the mob.”

Trevor surged up, temper flaring. “Damn it, Isaac, how many times do I have to tell you I know nothing about that! I know nothing about what my family was doing or who they were dealing with! I literally am a textbook definition of ignorant when it comes to this! Buy a dictionary, look up clueless and I am in there. I know nothing about it!”

“At least you know what you are,” Godbrand snickered and Trevor snarled.

This shit isn’t funny, Trevor thought, this is my fucking life.

“Where did you get the money to come here Belmont?” Isaac looked around. Trevor made a serious bid to hold onto his temper. “The tuition isn’t cheap. It’s interesting, isn’t it? That you would choose art for a career, after all that adamant talk about not participating in the forgery business.”

“Listen and listen well. I am a legitimate artist.” Trevor’s fists were clenched and he put them in his pockets. It was just safest that way. “I have never had anything to do with forgeries and I never will. I got here by working my ass off and I intend to get my degree and put the past behind me. Anything else? I’m missing class.”

“You had well over a hundred fifty thousand in your account at the start of the school year, the vast majority of which came in from an offshore account. You had another five figure sum deposited yesterday. Doesn’t look legitimate to me,” Godbrand, said with a gleam in his eye.

Trevor rocked back on his heels. They are watching me, he thought with astonishment and rapidly rising sense of dread. Why are they watching me?  

“First of all, I would like to see the warrant you must have in order to obtain that information.” Their exchanged glance was not lost on him. Fucking hell. Godbrand rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Secondly, if you are watching me that closely, then you know that I obtained a scholarship this year and I sold two pieces over the weekend.” Trevor closed his eyes because if he had to look at Godbrand one more second, he might kill the man. “That’s where the fucking money came from. It’s all going to this school anyway, which you should also be able to see. Unless you need me to draw you a fucking map?"

He looked at Godbrand and smiled wickedly. "I'll make sure it's a connect-the-dots for you." Godbrand clenched his fists and rose slowly, but Isaac put up a finger. Trevor finished, looking at the man."This is a witch hunt for nothing and I want to know why.”

“The scholarship money that was deposited came from an overseas account,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything. “We couldn’t trace it, but the bank it originated from has been under investigation for some time.”

“Yeah, so what?” Trevor asked. Fucking Tepes and their offshore bullshit, he thought.

“This bank. It was flagged during the investigation into your parents. It’s complicated, but suffice to say, we finally were able to locate the account the funds came from. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Trevor was confused. How is my scholarship related to my parents? “I don’t follow,” he said and sat back down.

“The source of the money in the account comes from the same source as multiple large payments to the Belmonts. Your parents. Large payments Trevor, absurdly large.” Isaac looked at him coolly. “The kind of payments that could only be for something illegal.”

Trevor struggled to absorb the implications and spoke without thinking. “That’s impossible. The money came from Vlad Tepes; it’s the Tepes scholarship. If it was illegal, why is he giving the money away to random students?”

Isaac’s eyes sharpened and he looked at Trevor. “You believe the funds came from Vlad Tepes? What makes you think that?”

Trevor rubbed his forehead. “It’s called the Tepes Scholarship, who the fuck else would it be?”

“Not Vlad Tepes. His son,” Isaac said. “Alucard Tepes. It’s his bank account.”

Trevor went rigid. “What?!”

It can’t be! Adrian’s money? Oh God, please not that, that is ten times worse, that is awful, I will never be able to look at him again. It was bad enough when it was his father’s money now it’s his? Why the fuck is he giving it away? What was the point? Was it something underhanded? Was he going to try to recruit… wait .

Trevor looked up and looked at Isaac suspiciously. “Alucard would have been a teenager at the time that the payments would have been going to my parents. Are you suggesting that a fifteen or sixteen-year-old kid was funneling absurdly large amounts of money for the purposes of international fraud? Seriously?”

Isaac’s smile was slow but admiring. “You see the problem then. It seems unlikely doesn’t it?”

It was a bomb in the middle of the room and Trevor didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Didn’t want to even breathe on that motherfucker. Trevor knew that Adrian’s whole world was about to be destroyed. If they were right. If.

I’ve lived what happens when you discover who your parents really are, Trevor thought. I can’t do that to him. I can’t watch it.

He worked for a easy tone. “Well I do not envy you boys having to prove what you are suggesting, because that is a fucking mess. From my end, I applied anonymously for a scholarship, won it and gave most of the money to the school. You can see it all in my finances. There is nothing more I have for you.”

“Yeah, but that wuddn't all of it, was it?” Godbrand said, lip curled.

“Actually it is. That is the extent of my contact with the Tepes money.” And it will stay that way, Trevor vowed to himself.

“That’s bullshit, Belmont!” Godbrand roared, “They gave you five figures two days ago!”

Trevor’s mind went utterly blank. Like a leaf floating down the river, one picture swam into focus. The image that cruised through was the achingly sweet and heart-breakingly earnest Adrian, who'd tucked his hair behind his ear. Who had a small smile playing on his mouth while his eyes melted into golden pools as he looked at the slide of Trevor’s sculpture. Who had said that looking at Trevor’s art left him questioning what he needed to release, wondering what he would be willing to do to gain fulfillment.

Adrian bought it? Adrian? He wanted to own my art work? It meant that much to him? He shook his head, trying to understand. No, don’t do that. That money would be nothing to him, if he really was behind the scholarship funds. It would be pocket change. Maybe it just…

No, his brain said calmly, you heard him. You saw his face. He understood it and it spoke to him. He bought it because it mattered to him.

The doorway to the trio yawned wide to him once more. There was room here for him. A bridge that he could use to get to Adrian. Money and prestige may stand between them but there was an understanding here, an intimacy that spanned material things. Trevor's excitement warred with his trepidation. The more immediate problem was staring him in the face right now.

What to do now, he thought unhappily, looking at the two agents who’d been in his life since he was sixteen.

“I didn’t know that,” Trevor said slowly. “I have no way of knowing who bought my sculptures, and you can check that with the gallery. When I spoke with Hector, he just told me what had been sold and how much I had made. To be honest, it was only today that I started to wonder who bought them.”

Isaac looked at him and nodded. “I believe you, but we need to ask you a favor.”

“Whatever it is, no,” Trevor said instantly, frustrated and alarmed. “I don’t want to be involved. My life has been destroyed once because of you and I won’t do it again. One text message, one little mistake and it’s taken five years to claw my way back.”

“It don’t look good Belmont,” Godbrand began and Trevor lost his temper.

“Look you piece of shit, I don’t give a damn what looks good to you. You have nothing on me.” Trevor stalked to the door and heard the two men move behind him.

“Belmont, wait,” Isaac began, and Trevor turned back to him.

“No, we are done here. Don’t ever come to my school again. Don’t call me unless you have a damn good reason. Adrian is right; next time you contact me you can speak to my lawyer."

“Trevor, please, it’s not—” there was a note of urgency in Isaac’s voice, but Godbrand reached Belmont first.

The man put his foot against the door and Trevor couldn’t get it to open. His temper flamed high and he whirled to Godbrand. “Furthermore, I am still waiting to see the warrant you have for invading my financial privacy. Lastly, unless I am under arrest, I am late for class and—”

Godbrand got right in Trevor’s face. “Fuck you, you little forgering twat I—"

Trevor swung, furious and beyond caring. He’d owed Godbrand a thousand times over for this, and it was incredibly satisfying to connect with that asshole’s face. At least it was until he found himself slammed up against the door and being cuffed.

“You made this easy, Belmont,” the red headed agent crowed, and whirled Trevor to face him. “And you hit like a pussy.”

"You would think that was pussy on your face, wouldn't you Godbrand? First time?" Trevor spat back. "Somehow I am not surprised."

"Fuck you Belmont, you know what I meant!" Godbrand was outraged, flushed and spitting mad.

Isaac stood to the side, face unreadable and arms crossed. “I think you need some ice for that,” he said simply and looked at his fellow agent.

“Fuck that. You were a witness Isaac and I am pressing charges against this fucking prick,” Godbrand hissed and jerked Trevor away from the door.

Trevor, what the fuck were you thinking?  He asked himself. You are completely screwed! You don’t even know a lawyer and you can’t afford to spend time away from school and you don’t have a way to get back here and…

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Isaac asked slowly. Trevor’s hope flared and abruptly died when Godbrand triumphantly and emphatically said that yes, he absolutely was going to do this.

The door rattled and then someone pounded on it. Godbrand jerked Trevor back and tossed him at Isaac, who stepped up and steadied him with a surprisingly gentle hand. The redhead yanked the door open. “Police business!” he barked and the redhead on the other side of the door put her hands on her hips and sneered.

“On what charge?” Sypha asked and Trevor closed his eyes.

This just got so much worse, he thought with despair.

--- 

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues
Let's dance
Dance to the song they're playing on the radio
Let's sway
While color lights up your face
Let's sway
Sway through the crowd in an empty space
If you say run, I'll run to you
If you say hide, we'll hide
Watch my love for you
It would break my heart in two
If you should fall into my arms
And tremble like a flower

-"Let's Dance," David Bowie

Notes:

Okay, so I didn't make it for the end of the month lol. I'm just gonna stop promising when it's gonna be done and hope you are enjoying this with as much glee as I am.
It's a side benefit that I am LIVING my 80's roots right now too. Bless that era for its music.
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Photos: All from Pexels. Thanks to Akwice, Dave Morgan, Athena, Kevin Bidwell, Emil Andersson and Zack Jarosz for generously donating their photography.

Chapter 10: When the world comes in

Summary:

“Trevor!” Sypha said. He didn’t look at her and Sypha’s fear grew. I know you. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault, she thought. Don’t give up, trust me.

“Hey! Are you daft? I said get lost!” The officer put out a hand to her, and Sypha smiled.

“Are you assaulting an unarmed bystander without the standard identification warning?” She cocked her head and crossed her arms. “Someone who is checking in on the welfare of an unarmed, fully restrained and unresisting civilian. One whom it appears was falsely imprisoned?”

Notes:

Nov 1 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha got Adrian’s text as she was chatting in the hallway with two classmates. At first, she laughed and texted him a silly face. When he wrote back, ‘This is not a joke, GO,’ her smile died like a flower caught in a hard frost. She shoved her portfolio in the hands of her friend and said “It’s an emergency, I will get this back from you.”

She turned and ran down the hallway, taking the tunnel into the main building at break neck speed. The FBI has Trevor in the Kahlo lounge on 2nd in Drawing. TAing, cannot go. Please check. Lawyer is Cruz & Assoc if needed, call and use my name. Sypha had no idea what was going on but she would sort it out once she got there. If Adrian was concerned, that was enough for her.

Her mind raced as she bolted up the stairs, out the door and across the great lawn towards the Drawing building. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the emotions tumbling through her. Terror, protectiveness, anger, worry, and love. There was so much love it was vibrating through her like an idling tractor.

Sypha wasn’t the kind of woman who tried to pretend or avoid the truths in her life. I guess I just haven’t spent enough time thinking about it, she thought.

It didn’t bother her. Sypha believed that love was something natural and comfortable. It would come when the time was right. Apparently that time was now. She knew she cared for Belmont; the love had just come sooner than she’d thought it might.

She threw open the door to the Drawing building and almost toppled another student. “Sorry! Emergency!” she said breathlessly, ignoring the stitch in her side and the spike of light-headedness. She took a massive breath and leapt at the stairs. I will need to call the lawyer, I will need to be calm, I will need to hold my temper in check

At the end of the hallway she could see the door to the lounge was shut. There was a window in the door and she saw a shaggy brown head through it. She galloped down the hallway and snarled when she saw and heard the head thunk heavily on the door.

What the fuck are they doing to him in there?! she thought.

Skidding to a halt, she grabbed the doorknob and tried to push it open. Her temper grew fangs and claws when she discovered it was locked. When the door opened and a tall, pale man with brilliant red hair that was in dire need of a stylist and some manners roared at her, Sypha was more than ready to fight.

“Police business!” the man bellowed at her, looming. She noticed a pale shadow on his chin, an odd purpling blob. Sypha stuck out her chin, put her hands on her hips and felt every inch of her outrage. She didn't know it but she looked just like her warrior forbearers headed into battle.

“On what charge?” she asked him defiantly, struggling not to pant. It would ruin the intimidation she was trying for, but she was still very winded.

“Get the fuck outta here girlie,” the man told her. When he shifted, she could see Trevor, handcuffed and looking away from her. His resignation alarmed her more than the handcuffs.

“Trevor!” Sypha said. He didn’t look at her and Sypha’s fear grew.

I know you. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault, she thought. Don’t give up, trust me.

“Hey! Are you daft? I said get lost!” The officer put out a hand to her, and Sypha smiled.

“Are you assaulting an unarmed bystander without the standard identification warning?” She cocked her head and crossed her arms. “Someone who is checking in on the welfare of an unarmed, fully restrained and unresisting civilian. One whom it appears was falsely imprisoned?”

Like all people who gave a shit about their world, Sypha had been to her share of protests and considered it a matter of self-preservation that she understood her rights before she attended. Police these days were entirely too free with violating the rights of those they were supposed to protect. As a white woman, she’d stepped in front of many of the protestors targeted for their identities or race and found that she could usually leverage her privilege to protect others.

The man blinked and his hand fell back, even as his mouth opened.

“Godbrand, do not. If you are pressing charges, then let’s take Belmont and be on our way.” Sypha could not see the person speaking but they sounded completely calm, with an undeniable edge of authority in their voice. The digital artist’s unease deepened.

Charges for what? Sypha thought, but didn’t expect an answer. Instead she said, “Where are you taking him? I am calling his lawyer. Then I am taking a cab and following you there.”

Godbrand snarled at her, “You are impeding an investigation and need to give us space to exit the room.”

“I am well within my rights to observe as a citizen and ensure that this man receives due process and you adhere to the conduct required of you by law.” Sypha struggled to be calm and non-threatening. “Please answer my question as to where you are taking him, and I would be happy to step aside.”

“We will take him to the local precinct. I believe it is on 21st,” came that calm voice from inside the room. It paused before continuing, “You may follow but you need to step aside now. Godbrand, yes or no?”

“Fucking yes,” the asshole in the bad suit hissed and bad-temperedly rolled his shoulders.

Sypha couldn’t resist her triumphant smile at the officer in front of her, or the exaggerated bow she gave as she stepped aside. She already had her phone out and texted for a cab to meet her at the front. She saw the redhead glower at her as he went by and resisted giving him the finger.

Her heart tripped when she saw Trevor and he wouldn’t look at her. He looked straight ahead, face blank and unreadable as he was escorted down the hallway in handcuffs by a tall, competent looking man with an equally impassive face. Damn you both, she thought to the officers, humiliating him like this.

It was a small college. Everyone would know about this by tomorrow morning and it would be one more thing that would isolate him from his peers. It would be one more thing he would think Adrian would hold against him.

She trailed down the stairs behind them and called Cruz & Associates. When she said she was calling on behalf of Alucard Tepes she was immediately transferred and moments later was speaking to a smooth, rich voice. “Soma Cruz, how may I help you?”

Sypha quickly sketched out the situation and added several items that made it clear she wasn’t a crank and knew Adrian personally. She watched the officers load Trevor into their car and made a note of the license plate, giving it to Cruz for good measure.

The lawyer told her to follow them but to not interfere. He warned her that she wouldn’t be allowed in the interview but he was going to contact an associate firm in the area who would be his physical presence. He assured her that he would be on the phone with the representative during any conversation. Cruz took her contact information as she sprinted toward the cab idling at the curb. The lawyer told her he wouldn’t call her again unless he needed something, but she could call and speak to his associate, Mina, if she needed updates. 

The ride to the precinct was nail-biting. The digital artist hadn’t been able to actually follow the FBI vehicle and didn’t like that she couldn’t see them ahead of her. Several texts to and from Adrian confirmed that Soma had contacted him to confirm he could proceed. Her best friend had told Cruz that he was unavailable, but confirmed that Sypha was authorized to contract Soma for any and all measures.

Sypha was the final word on how to proceed if Trevor was unable to provide it.

When they pulled up to the precinct Sypha threw the cash to the driver and dove out of the cab. Mounting the front steps, she paused to take a deep breath and settle. You don’t dash into a police station looking like you are out of control, she told herself.

Calmer, she opened the door and stepped inside.

---

Isaac was not happy. This was not supposed to be how the interview with Belmont went.

He could never admit it, but he despised Godbrand. The man had the finesse of a wrecking ball, was loud, brash and foolish. Working with him tried Isaac’s patience and more than once he’d seriously considered asking for a transfer. He didn’t, because Isaac had taught himself to endure.

He could tolerate almost anything and at least Godbrand understood their partnership. Isaac gave him free reign on the little things and Godbrand obeyed once Isaac stepped in. I should have stepped in earlier, he thought unhappily, looking at Belmont through the one-way glass. In reality, Trevor had endured a hell of a lot of pressure from them, and Godbrand had probably had that punch coming for years.

If only I knew what I was looking for, he thought again. The Belmont murders had been the biggest case he’d ever worked at the time it had landed on his desk. At first it had seemed incredibly promising. The boy had texted his cousin two nights before the fire. The parents had been executed and then both the home and the gallery destroyed the same day the newspapers had leaked the story.

Then it started to fall apart.

When they interviewed the cousin, they’d been adamant that they never told anyone. They were young and terrified. Furthermore, they could find no evidence that Trevor's friend had told anyone.

The newspaper had refused to reveal their source and then won the court case protecting the source. The journalist who'd been the contact for the source spent over a year in jail and still didn’t break. The fire had incinerated everything and there were no records of ties to mob sources anywhere. Even the forgeries were next to impossible to track.

Whether the art world liked to admit it or not, the Belmonts had primarily dealt in real artworks. The FBI didn’t have the resources or inclinations to pay to send an art historian all over the planet to confirm what was what. So the case languished and was quietly moved to the back of Isaac’s desk.

But he never forgot it. Even though Godbrand resented it and his supervisor rolled her eyes every time he brought it up, it nagged at Isaac.

Trevor had always said he didn’t know anything about the forgery business, but he wouldn’t even talk about exactly how he’d found out. The Belmont would disappear for months on end and Isaac would think that the mob finally got him. Then the man would show up again, applying for a driver’s license, a work permit, or more recently, a fighting license. Because the case was still considered open, Isaac was able to keep tabs on Trevor and on his finances in the past two years.

When the lump sum came in, it’d been what Isaac had been waiting for. He got the warrant and the tech to track it back. And what do they find, but the account that paid Trevor was strung together with a set of other accounts, one of which was the account that they’d previously been unable to identify. But now they could.

Modern technology and international cooperation was a wonderful thing, Isaac mused, watching Belmont shift through the glass.

Isaac had fudged a little. He’d let Trevor believe that Vlad had used Alucard’s account to make the Belmont payments, but that wasn’t entirely true. It was more that the money that was put into Alucard’s account came, in a very convoluted way, from the same account that the payments to the Belmonts came from. The problem was that Isaac couldn’t look further than that.

The minute that Vlad Tepes had come into the picture, Isaac had been called into his superior’s office and told in no uncertain terms that he was not to investigate anything related to the Tepes. He could continue to research what happened to the Belmonts, but there was to be no contact with the Tepes family, no warrants for Tepes accounts and absolutely no word of FBI investigation remotely associated with Vlad Tepes.

So basically, stop, without telling me to stop, Isaac thought.

Isaac remembered Trevor’s face when he’d heard his parents had been murdered and his childhood home burned down. He had counted on Trevor being willing to help him. If Trevor consented to returning a portion of the funds he received to the Tepes accounts and Isaac could obtain traces showing where that money went once it went in Tepes’ accounts, technically he was following Belmont's money, not Tepes.

But there was something there, Isaac thought suspiciously.

He knew Belmont at this point, and Trevor had been shocked by the implication that Alucard Tepes was involved. Stunned and then immediately defensive. It was almost like… Isaac closed his eyes and groaned. “Godbrand, wait here. Do not, I repeat, do not go in there without me.”

Isaac stepped into the hallway and pulled out his phone. Pulling up a search engine, he looked up Tepes family and scrolled quickly.

Son of a bitch, he thought when Alucard Tepes’ face filled the screen. Please keep your badge out in case I need to call my lawyers… His name is Adrian, he’s my teacher. He’s nobody…

The agent firmed his mouth. For years he’d known in his gut that Trevor didn't know anything about his parent’s death. But this, this was a hell of a coincidence. It was time to get some answers. He opened the interview room door and stepped inside. Trevor looked up at him, waiting. Isaac came over, sat down and deliberately didn’t push the microphone button to record.

“There is precious little time now, Trevor. You need to tell me about Alucard Tepes, and you need to tell me now.”

----

Class was over and Adrian had a massive headache. He was tired of listening to Shaft’s tirade on Adrian’s inability to do his job correctly.

Do your own damn job then, the painter thought, but knew better than to make this worse. The simple fact was that if he told Shaft to go fuck himself like he desperately wanted to, he would have no income and would have to take the money his parents kept depositing into his account. The money that he had repeatedly asked his father to stop depositing, but was told it was his, whether he wanted it or not. Rather than arguing with his father about the money, it was simplest to quietly give it away.

The money in that account funded the Tepes scholarship and helped those who were talented and deserved a chance. That money meant a future for artists who weren't as lucky as he was. It made it possible for them to be able to afford the outrageous tuition at the school. Adrian never wanted to use that money on himself.

He was an adult and his parents already paid for his tuition separately from the outrageous allowance he received every month. He could work and he would pay for what he was allowed to pay for with his own money. 

Furthermore, if Adrian quit this class he would be abandoning his students. Most of them were really lovely people and they would be stuck with a teacher that hated them and would teach them to hate art. Adrian couldn’t do that to them or to himself. Better to bite his tongue and rise above this entire conversation.

“You will fail Belmont, or I will change the grade myself.” Shaft said triumphantly. “It’s not his work, and even if it is, he is trash.”

Adrian’s head snapped up and he stared at the professor. “You are asking me to willfully agree to fraudulently failing a student because of a personal bias.”

Shaft snorted, “As if you haven’t done the same! It’s hardly an uncommon practice. Teaching is personal, and bias will always creep in.”

Adrian shook his head slowly, and the professor’s face flushed. “No. If I have that much of a bias, I would recuse myself or give the student’s work to another professor to grade. I wouldn't embrace my bias as unavoidable. It's unfair. Furthermore, it’s unethical.”

“Watch yourself Alucard! I have given you free hand with this class and you had best heed me on this,” Shaft shook his finger at his TA. Adrian looked at the angry, bitter man who didn’t care who he hurt, so long as his pride was satisfied.

The TA drew himself his full height and started to speak. His phone rang and the ringtone was his father. Probably for the best, Adrian thought and looked up at Shaft. “Excuse me, I have to take this call.”

Shaft’s eyes widened and then narrowed. He shook his head and stormed out. Adrian took a deep breath and answered the phone. Without preamble his father’s accented tones rumbled out of the device. “Adrian, what is going on?”

“Hello Father, I am afraid you’ll have to be more specific.” Adrian’s mind was everywhere but here. He wasn’t being sarcastic, he was serious. “There are several things going on for me right now. Was there one in particular you were wondering about?”

“I am wondering why the most expensive lawyer in the east coast is dealing with the FBI on behalf of a Trevor Belmont and I am footing the bill?” His father said with a slightly amused, slightly exasperated tone. “I was told that you authorized this.”

Adrian closed his eyes. He had meant to text Vlad and tell him but between teaching, the argument with Shaft and the sporadic updates from Sypha and Cruz, he’d had his hands full. “I apologize sir, I meant to get in touch with you but I have been in the middle of teaching. I had a student who was pulled out of class by the FBI and from the little I gleaned, it appeared to be harassment. What I know of his history suggested that he might not have representation and I am—”

“Full of it,” Vlad finished for him, gentle but firm. “You’ve never called on one of my connections before.” His father fell silent.

You knew this was coming, Adrian thought with resignation. “It’s complicated,” he said and felt relieved when his father laughed.

“What isn’t? Listen, let me ask you this. Is everything alright? With you? I am not worried about this Belmont; Soma is the best. But you sound… uneasy,” Vlad seemed at a loss to describe how Adrian sounded.

“Actually, I am not alright,” Adrian said in a small rush. “I am a bit of a mess right now and I don’t know what to do, on several fronts.”

“I will come see you,” Vlad said instantly, deadly serious and concerned. “I can be there in… six hours, depending on the flights.” Adrian could hear the startled protest of Vlad’s assistant and the abrupt cut off their voice. He had to smile. He knew his father was holding up his finger and giving his assistant the look. Adrian had seen it several times, aimed at others and aimed at himself.

Warmth spread through Vlad’s son and he struggled with the comfort of knowing his father would drop everything to help him, but the need to handle life on his own terms. Vlad always meant well but he was incredibly protective and sometimes it left Adrian feeling managed, rather than assisted.

“That is a wonderful thought but I must decline. I cannot take you away from your work,” Adrian said and his father grumbled. “Furthermore, I need to handle these issues on my own. But thank you, really. It means a great deal to me that you would offer. I need to mention as well, I intend to pay for Soma myself and I would appreciate it if you would allow me to.”

“I thought… I had hoped that your using Soma…” Vlad fell silent and Adrian felt something pass between them. It felt heavy and somewhat sad. He couldn’t have said what it was but he felt its weight. “I am very proud of you Adrian,” Vlad said quietly. “You are quite the man.”

Adrian sat heavily and closed his eyes. He felt fragile and uncertain. He could count on his hand the number of times his father had called him a man. Acknowledged him as a peer and not a child. “Thank you, Father, I am trying to be. It is hard.”

Vlad’s voice was rueful but admiring. “Anything worth having is. If you won’t let me come see you now, could I convince you to come home this weekend? We could talk about how you resolved these issues and I would like to hear about what happens with Soma and this Belmont.”

If I can get anything resolved in three days, I suppose, Adrian thought stoically. “I will try Father but I cannot promise that. I had plans with Sypha and—”

“Oh bring her! I would love to see her again!” Vlad’s grin came through the phone. “See if she can still best me at Ferbli. I’ve been working on it and damned if this won’t be the time I finally get her.”

Adrian grinned. His father had taught his best friend the traditional card game of Ferbli, which was loosely like poker but the cards were the magyar kártya deck and the rules were somewhat different. Lisa and Adrian only played under duress. Vlad was far too good at the game and crowed with delight every time he won.

It had been with great pleasure that they’d witnessed Sypha’s triumph over Vlad in the third round of the fourth game. She seemed to have a natural gift for the card game, although she kept claiming beginners’ luck despite beating Vlad consistently eight times in a row thereafter.

His father had been shocked, then furious and then utterly charmed. When Sypha gave him a sly grin and laid down her vakon hívás on the nineth game, Vlad had thrown his cards down, leapt to his feet and hauled her over the table with a roar of laughter and a great big hug.

He had declared that Adrian had to marry her or he would. Sypha had batted her lashes and asked if Lisa came with the package. That had done it; Vlad had adored her ever since.

“I will ask her, but she has been busy lately." Adrian repressed a longing sigh. "She’s seeing someone.”

“Adrian what?! She’s been stepping out on me! That hussy!” His father laughed. “Might she be seeing a certain artist currently in police custody?”

What?! Adrian thought, startled, how did…

“Your mother mentioned that Sypha was seeing someone named Belmont.”

Adrian’s blood froze. Oh Mother, you didn’t tell him I…

“Let’s just say I was surprised. You and Sypha always seemed so close; I had just thought it was a matter of time.” The ice melted, Lisa had obviously just mentioned it in passing and not the whole matter. He should have known better; his mother was not a gossip. “Bring Belmont too, I would like to meet him. See who Sypha chose over me,” Vlad was grinning, Adrian could hear it in his voice.

“I will see what I can do,” Adrian said. Asking Belmont to the Tepes home should be amusing. He tried to picture Vlad and Trevor together and repressed his snicker. That would either go really well, or horribly wrong.

“Will Mother be there?” He could count on his mother to help keep the peace.

“Actually yes, we should do something fun. I cannot remember the last time all of us were home together.” There was a murmur in the background and Adrian caught that his father was now late for a meeting.

“I need to go,” the painter said easily, “but I will text you and let you know how many to expect. Thank you for calling and checking everything was alright.”

“I will let Eva know that there will be three of you,” Vlad said just as easily, and Adrian rolled his eyes. As if by saying it, it would come true. “I look forward to it. I miss you. Take care.”

“You as well, Father,” Adrian said and gently hung up. “I love you.” 

It appeared he was going home again this weekend.

--- 

Now I'm walking again
To the beat of a drum
And I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart
Only shadows ahead
Barely clearing the roof
Get to know the feeling of liberation and release
Hey now, hey now
Don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
You know they won't win

-"Don't Dream It's Over," Crowded House

Notes:

I love cliffhangers *cheesy grin *

---
Model for Trevor is Felix Aren, Adrian is Andrej Pejic and Sypha is from Pexels, model unknown, photographer Olenka Sergienk.

Chapter 11: I'm on the line, one open mind

Summary:

“Look. I just don’t believe you.” Trevor shrugged. “I like you Isaac, I don't know why to be honest, but I do. I appreciate that you kept looking, kept at it, but this is flat out wrong. There is no fucking way that the Tepes family was involved with the killing of my parents. It’s Vlad fucking Tepes. Why? Why would he bother with forgeries, why would he kill anyone? The man is so powerful he doesn’t need to kill anyone, he could just buy his way out of whatever the issue was. Besides, he has nothing to do with buying and selling art.”

Isaac spoke softly, but intently, “Sometimes there is no such thing as enough power for people Trevor, sometimes money isn’t enough. You should understand that. It happened to your parents, why wouldn’t it happen to Alucard’s?”

Notes:

Nov 7-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Alucard Tepes? I don’t understand,” Trevor said and narrowed his eyes at Isaac.

The FBI agent sighed. “Look, Trevor, I don’t know what your connection to the Tepes family is, but I cannot believe you would protect them when they were involved with what happened with your parents.”

That’s not possible, Trevor thought again, I can’t see Adrian coming from people who would do something like that. “I’m not protecting anyone." He said, "I don’t know Vlad Tepes beyond the usual media stuff and what I needed to know for the scholarship.”

Isaac raised his eyebrow and turned his phone to Trevor. Adrian stood beside a tall, dark, strikingly featured man and a stunning blonde woman. ‘Tepes Family Donates Wing to Hospital' screamed across the headline. Adrian was gorgeous in a black tuxedo, hair pulled back into a bun and the faintest smile. The graceful ease with which he stood between his parents spoke volumes and he was a fascinating mix of both of them.

Trevor’s heart squeezed painfully. He felt far too much when he saw Adrian held between his parents. He didn’t know it, but Isaac saw it too and wondered. “As I said, I don’t know Vlad Tepes. I know Adr—Alucard Tepes through art school and very casually at that.”

“Trevor, whatever they promised you, whatever is holding you back from—” Isaac began and Trevor shook his head furiously. You don’t get it, he thought and tried to explain.

“Look. I just don’t believe you.” Trevor shrugged. “I like you Isaac, I don't know why to be honest, but I do. I appreciate that you kept looking, kept at it, but this is flat out wrong. There is no fucking way that the Tepes family was involved with the killing of my parents. It’s Vlad fucking Tepes. Why? Why would he bother with forgeries, why would he kill anyone? The man is so powerful he doesn’t need to kill anyone, he could just buy his way out of whatever the issue was. Besides, he has nothing to do with buying and selling art.”

Isaac spoke softly, but intently, “Sometimes there is no such thing as enough power for people Trevor, sometimes money isn’t enough. You should understand that. It happened to your parents; why wouldn’t it happen to Alucard’s?”

Trevor snarled, but he couldn’t argue with that. Some days he wondered if he would ever know the whole story. Because it was an ongoing investigation, many of the details were only rumors. With neither the FBI or his own family talking to him, Trevor had to make do with bits and conjecture.

“Look, it’s obvious that you care about Alucard Tepes. That’s fine, I am not interested in him. All I want to know is why the Tepes were making payments to the Belmonts. Why they were so big and why there were so many,” Isaac coaxed, posture relaxed and head cocked. 

“I don’t know. Have you asked them?” Trevor threw himself back in his chair and sighed. “What did they say?”

Isaac seemed to be thinking. The first sign of irritation appeared in the flex of his jaw. He lowered his already quiet voice. “I would but I can’t. I’ve been told not to even breathe in Vlad’s direction.”

Okay, that is a little suspicious, Trevor thought and tried to ignore the flare of doubt.

“You though,” Isaac looked at him. “You can ask whatever you want.”

Trevor stared at him. “Are you serious? You want me to ask Vlad Tepes about his finances?” Trevor laughed incredulously. The idea was absurd. “What do I say? Hey nice to meet you, uh, no biggie but a source I cannot name suggested that you might be doing something highly illegal with my parents, who by the way committed international fraud before getting murdered in a mob hit but don’t worry, I am a great influence on your son.”

Issac looked at him calmly. “Maybe not exactly like that.”

He’s serious! Trevor thought and felt a hot wave of anger pass over him. “You know what Isaac? Fuck you. You let Godbrand drag me through campus, down here for a punch that we both know he had coming for years. You’re asking me to put my personal relationship with Adrian on the line and for what? To suggest that his father might be participating in something illegal? And what if he is? Then what? I’d be putting myself in harm’s way for—”

“But I thought you said that Vlad would never do that,” Issac interrupted. “Vlad would never do anything illegal. So what harm would there be beyond the awkwardness?” Trevor snapped his mouth shut and glowered at the federal agent. “All I am saying is think about it,” Issac said, all reason.

“Oh I will think about it, I think about kick—“ Trevor snapped back and the door opened.

“You had best not be speaking to my client without representation. Has he been Mirandized?” A slender brunette man stalked in and looked at Godbrand, who was staring holes into Isaac’s head.

“Is this your lawyer?” Isaac asked Trevor. I have no fucking idea, he thought and wished he knew what Sypha was doing. When she said she was calling his lawyer he’d been surprised but he didn’t think she’d actually do it. He had every intention of pleading guilty. Lying would make it worse and Issac had witnessed the whole thing. This man looked expensive. Trevor could practically smell the billing hours.

The brunette filled the empty air easily. “I’ve been sent on behalf of Soma Cruz.” That’s nice, Trevor thought, who is that? “You are Trevor Belmont, yes?” Trevor nodded and the man smiled. “Excellent.” He looked at Isaac. “I will need the room.”

Isaac got up, looked at Trevor and said, “It could mean knowing.”

And you know that is all I have ever really wanted, Trevor thought. I need to know who killed them and to know that I could at least right that part of the horror that I brought on my parents. I can never take back the part I played, but I could at least know there was justice. I need it and I always have.

Trevor looked down at the table and closed his eyes as he heard the sounds of the agents leave. You don’t have to make a decision now, he told himself. What decision, you aren’t doing this! I’ve been told not to even breathe in Vlad’s direction. No, there is no chance you are even considering this. Adrian would never forgive you and you have a chance with him now. All I want to know is why the Tepes were making payments to the Belmonts. What does it matter, maybe he was buying art? The chance that Vlad was involved in my parent’s death is so fucking slim… It’s slim but not impossible, is it? 

It could mean knowing. “Fucking Isaac,” Trevor snarled aloud and his lawyer, who’d been in the process of getting out his cellphone, paused.

“Was that the one who assaulted you?” the man asked and Trevor blinked.

“Uh, what?” Trevor asked, confused. “I punched Godbrand. I assaulted him; he didn’t punch me.” How much do you cost, because this should be obvious?  he thought. I am in handcuffs and Godbrand is wearing a bruise.

“Just a moment please, I am calling Mr. Cruz. He will want to hear this,” the man said and finished dialing. Within moments there was a smooth, calm voice on the phone. He introduced himself to Trevor, told him everything would be fine and that with the information he had, he thought he could have Trevor out of custody within the hour.

Promises, promises, Trevor thought and opened his mouth to speak but Soma and the other lawyer were discussing what had been happening with Isaac when the lawyer had come in.

“Yes, I agree,” Soma was saying. “Clearly unscrupulous and obviously intimidating. We can argue that he was attempting to ensure that Trevor would confess before receiving proper consultation. Furthermore, if they haven’t Mirandized— Trevor? Trevor were you read your rights? You know, the ‘right to be silent’ and all of that?”

“Hi, uh, no I wasn’t, but I did it. I punched Godbrand, ugh, Agent Godbrand.” Trevor said.

“Wasn’t he,” there was the sound of the lawyer shuffling paper, and then a stillness. “Impeding your ability to leave the student lounge?”

“Well, Isaac locked the door so people couldn’t get in, but Godbrand put his foot against the door so I couldn’t leave when I unlocked it and tried to exit.” Trevor said slowly. Where are we going with this? he wondered.

Something that might have been amusement was in Soma’s voice and the lawyer in the room with Trevor openly smirked. “So you were falsely imprisoned with two federal agents. I was told that you were also shoved or thrown against the door hard enough that a third party could hear the sound of your skull hitting the door from outside the room. Have you been medically examined?”

“Um, no? I mean I bumped my head but I was okay…” Trevor was at a total loss. Medically examined?

“Were you under arrest at the time you were leaving?” Cruz asked him.

Trevor shook his head and then realized Cruz couldn’t see him, so he said, “No. I only punched Godbrand after he got in my face and then I was put under arrest. Before that they were questioning me about an old case.”

“Do you have reason to believe you were considered a suspect in the case or were you a witness?” Soma asked, brisk and businesslike.

Trevor laughed, “Nope to both. I am a family member of the victims and have been interviewed more times than I can count. I’ve never been able to offer anything useful.” He sobered. “Unfortunately.”

“My sympathies, Mr. Belmont, that must be difficult.” Cruz’s voice was pitch-perfect sympathy with just enough warmth that Trevor almost believed he meant it. Almost. “So would you term the actions of these agents to be harassing in nature?”

“God yes. They called me a dozen times last week and then showed up, yelled at me in my class and then withdrew me from it after interrogating my teacher and—” Trevor clued into what was happening here. A slow grin spread across his face. “Mr. Cruz, I think I like you.”

 “Oh I definitely like you, Mr. Belmont.” Soma chuckled. “This will be fun.”

---

The last thing Sypha thought she would see was Trevor laughing when he exited the police station. She leapt up and ran to him, tears stinging her eyes. “Trevor! Thank God, I am so grateful you are alright!”

He got a good look at her face and immediately drew her close. “Sypha, oh, no, I am alright. It’s okay, really, I am just fine.”

She held on tight and gave into her tears. “I was scared. Mina told me that they were charging you with assaulting an officer and I just—”

“No babe, no, it’s okay. That was actually… kinda fun,” he said, surprise and pleasure eking out of his voice.

Sypha drew back in surprise. “Fun?!” Did they drug him? she wondered. He had a sloppy grin on his face and seemed almost giddy.

“Actually, yeah.” His grin was huge. “I finally got to punch someone who has been an utter asshole to me for years. When he thought he finally got me cornered and to be honest, so did I, I got to see him get repeatedly kicked in the nuts by my lawyer to the point where he is apologizing to me while he is purple with anger.” Trevor sighed dreamily. “Better than sex.”

Sypha jerked back, “Excuse me?” You take that back or I am gonna

Trevor’s eyes widened and then he just laughed. “Not sex with you of course. Sex with other people.”

Sypha scowled, “Trevor Belmont, you had best not be having sex with other people unless it is Adrian, and furthermore, if you are having sex with him you had better gimme the dets.”

Trevor picked her up and whirled her around before dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I fully intend to have sex with him with you.” He grinned wickedly, “At least once in a while.”

That’s it, Sypha thought. She punched him in the gut, hard, and he whoofed out air. “We’ll see who gets there first Belmont.” She told him tartly.

“Nice one,” he said weakly from his hunched over stance. “Uh, ladies first?”

“Damn right you ass. I’ve been panicking out here and you’ve been dreaming of Adrian’s dick.” Sypha glowered at him as he gingerly stood up. “I saw him first!”

Trevor’s smile eased into something sweet. “Actually I wasn’t. I promise. I’m sorry you were panicking. Truthfully, I was too there for a while. Thank you for calling Soma, he was amazing.” His smile grew rueful. “Although I suspect I will be paying out my ass for him.” He looked back at the station. “Worth it though.”

Uh oh, Sypha thought. She hadn’t decided how to handle that part yet. Adrian had been adamant that Trevor was not to pay and told her that Soma already had his instructions for payment. “Yes, well, I think we have a lot to discuss. Let’s get you home.”

“We have our extended media class in 40 minutes, don’t you think—” Trevor began and Sypha took his hand.

“Trevor, you need to take this afternoon,” she said as gently as possible. “We need to talk. I hate to bring you down from this high and I am so grateful that this wasn’t as traumatizing as I thought it would be... but you need to consider what you will be facing on campus tomorrow.”

For a split second she saw everything inside of Trevor. It was like peeling a peach skin. At first, the peach looked great and whole and pretty. Then you put the knife to the skin and watched all that pulpy mess ooze out like it’d been pounded with the back of a wooden spoon. And the skin ripped, and your fingers sunk into the softness in a bruising, punishing way. It was horrible.

“Adrian,” he whispered, anguished. “Does he know?”

“Yes, he knows.” Sypha nodded and thought, do you realize what you just did Trevor? His opinion was the first one you worried about. She resisted clapping with glee; Belmont was half-way in love and hadn't even kissed the painter yet. “He was very worried. I can confidently say that he was sure you were innocent from the beginning and just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Trevor nodded, somber. “So now I only have to convince all my teachers and classmates that I am not a dangerous, law-breaking criminal from the Belmont family. Oh wait. Never mind.” He heaved a sigh. “Fuck.”

Sypha gave him an understanding pat on his arm. “It will be hard but not impossible.”

Trevor gave her a small smile. “Good thing I don’t give a shit what other people think.” He raked a hand through his hair.

If only that were true, Sypha thought but simply nodded.

“Let’s go home,” Trevor said, draping his arm over her. He stiffened. “I mean… I meant, uh, if you would like to come—” You darling man, I could eat you up, she thought. I love you too.

“Where you are? That’s home.” Sypha said, and put her arm around his waist. “I knew what you meant.”

Her phone buzzed and Sypha looked at it. “Ah. Adrian just got word you’ve been released and would like to know if you are alright. Also, he has your bag.”

Trevor frowned. “How did he find out so fast? Tell him I am fine.” Sypha typed in a response. “And if he could bring my bag by the apartment that would be great, I need to grab my notes on… actually, no, I will get it tomorrow.” You don’t want him to see your place, she thought and made a decision. 

“Oh shit, sorry, I already sent the address to him and asked him to bring it… and yep, he asked what time he could bring it by?” Sypha looked at him innocently and pretended not to see the utter irritation that flashed in his eyes. Believe me, it is a good thing, she thought. He needs to see you and you need to see him. He doesn’t care about your history. You are the one with the hang-up on his money, and you need to get past it to get to Adrian.

“Sypha, he’ll probably get mugged on his way there. Tell him not to walk. If he wears his gold chains it’ll happen for sure. Tell him no jewelry, tell him to borrow someone’s clothes, tell him—” He groaned. “I’m being ridiculous.” You care so much and you can’t even admit it to yourself, she thought, sadness and frustration welling up inside her like an overflowing bathtub.

“A little bit,” she said gently. “Tell you what. Let’s get food into you first, and then you into me,” Trevor’s grin was filthy, “and then we’ll sort out the rest together. I want to hear it all.”

“That is a plan I can get behind,” Trevor said happily. When Sypha turned to flag a cab, he smacked her ass playfully. “Also an ass I can get behind.”

Sypha looked over her shoulder, “You mean an ass you can get under.”

“Tell you what, lover,” Trevor cooed, as he draped himself over her, “We’ll see who climbs who first.”

---

“So that’s it, that’s how it all went down,” Trevor finished, watching Sypha dig through his closet. Her cute ass was wriggling madly as she hunted for a T-shirt that was long enough for her to wear as a reasonable version of a dress. Her clothes had been unfortunately tossed on the half-dissected engine on the floor of his ‘dining room.’ There were pieces in it that he wanted to use for a sculpture. They hadn’t realized where her clothes had landed until they’d collapsed on the couch. She’d spied them, streaked in grease, over back of the couch and alerted him via a screech that still rang in his ears.

She’d climbed him first, but he’d finished it. And what a finish, he thought, still blissed out from the incredible orgasm. There was definitely something to be said for foregoing condoms. Sypha had gotten an IUD last week and Trevor had gone with her. There’d been something hilarious but terribly sweet about exchanging their clean test results and then making out in the elevator like it was prom night. He was pretty sure whomever was manning the elevator security cameras had been forced to excuse themselves for a quick self-care session in the bathroom.

Sex with Sypha had been fantastic before but now… well, he was spoiled for life. Funny, he wasn’t worried about it though. Every day with her he became surer about what she felt for him. Everyday he came closer to telling her everything about himself. To telling her he was pretty sure he loved her.

“Trevor,” she popped out of his closet with his old Smashing Pumpkins hoodie and yanked it over her head. It hit mid-thigh and looked utterly adorable. “You have to tell Adrian.”

Trevor sighed. “Do you realize what it’s going to sound like? What I would be accusing his father of? And I don’t even believe it.” He paused, “I think.” I don’t want to believe it but I can’t help but wonder.

Sypha snorted. “It’s bullshit. Once you meet Vlad and Lisa, you’ll understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t need answers, that you don’t deserve to put your mind at ease on the whole thing. And honestly? Vlad should know that the FBI has these questions. Who knows? He might even be able to give them some insights.”

“You could ask him. You know him and I—” She was shaking her head. Fucking hell Sypha, can’t you see how impossible this is for me?

“No Trevor. I can go with you and I happily will, but he needs to hear this from you. See what it means to you. I really think he will understand.”

“And what about Adrian? Damn it Sypha, I’ve said some really terrible things to him and I have been wrong at every turn. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that it was him that gave out the scholarships. That you helped him pick my application!” I’m still reeling from that, he thought.

When Sypha had heard that he knew Adrian’s money paid for the scholarship she’d been ecstatic and told him he should have seen how excited Tepes had been over his application. She’d resoundingly agreed with his choice and had concurred that Trevor should be granted the full tuition and living expenses. The digital artist had crowed that if she’d known it was Trevor, they all would be in bed together by now.

She’d been horrified when it became apparent that Trevor hadn’t realized Adrian dealt with the applications personally and had thought that his only involvement in the scholarship was his money. She’d cried, saying she’d broken her best friend’s confidence and had still been sniffling when they got out of the shower. Trevor felt badly but the flattery of knowing that Adrian and Sypha chose him over the other applicants? His ego was granite and so was his cock.

“I told you, I couldn’t tell you! You shouldn’t even know now, if I hadn’t blabbed like an idiot!” She sniffled and Trevor immediately got up.

“No love, don’t.” He didn’t even catch what he said, but Sypha did. “It was an honest mistake and I am so grateful you made it. It might be a quick moment of dismay for Adrian later, but I swear I will say nothing until the time is right.”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her forehead. One hand on the small of her back, tracing little patterns that drew her into him. “Meanwhile,” he continued, “it’s hot as fuck to think about. I mean, he chose me Sypha. You chose me. For my art. For the realest and frankly the rawest part of myself. Before you ever met me!”

“It’s gorgeous.” He kissed the ginger arch of her eyebrow. “It’s humbling.” He pressed his lips to her soft cheek, right on two freckles that kissed each other. “It’s perfect.” He captured her mouth. “I love it.”

“I love you,” Sypha murmured into his mouth, and Trevor’s hands tightened on her jaw. What?! She does? How is that possible! How could someone like Sypha love me? How did I get so lucky? 

Her brows came together. “I know it’s sudden and too soon but I—”

“I do too. Love you, I mean.” Trevor said, finding the words so much easier and truer than he’d thought. It was still terrifying and still echoed in his ears when he said it, but when Sypha’s stunning eyes flew open, as blue as the porcelain beads in his mother’s favorite necklace, he found words he never knew he had. “I think I did from the moment you introduced yourself in Extended Media. You are a badass. And sexy. And brilliant. I can’t believe you want me. I can’t believe you love me.”

Her lips were soft and welcoming, and so was her body as she yielded against him. "How could I not? Kind, funny, dangerous," she punctuated every word with a little nip or lick, "intense, a little sad, mysterious, loyal...you are irresistible." She pushed him back on the bed and he grinned.

His hoodie was half way over her head when there was a knock at the door.

--- 

You keep your distance with a system of touch
And gentle persuasion
I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?
Oh, you're wasting my time
You're just, just, just wasting time…
…I made a fire, I'm watching it burn
Thought of your future
With one foot in the past, now, just how long will it last?
Now, have you no ambitions?
…Something happens and I'm head over heels
I never find out 'til I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Don't take my heart, don't break my heart
Don't, don't, don't throw it away
And this is my four-leaf clover
I'm on the line, one open mind
This is my four leaf-clover

-"Head Over Heels," Tears for Fears

Notes:

Who could possibly be at the door? Who I ask you?

Chapter 12: See the stone set in your eyes

Summary:

Adrian felt his blush deepen and wished he could be as cool as Trevor seemed to be half-naked. “She was not happy I wasn’t pizza. If she’s been nice to you, she obviously sees something in you that I was lacking.” Wow, really Adrian?  He thought. That was smooth and super confident, way to make conversation.

Trevor’s brow raised and he looked at Adrian slowly, giving him the once over. It took everything in the painter not to shrink. Belmont’s gaze felt like hands and it was shocking how much he wanted to lean into it, to step into that chest, bring his hands up, cup his cheeks and… Trevor snorted and Adrian went cold. Please don’t, please just don’t make fun of—

“Danielle must be really drunk then, you look great.” Trevor grinned and Adrian blinked. Wait, what? He thought.

Notes:

Nov 10-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Adrian’s hands were shaking and he told himself this was so ridiculous. He’d been in a state of semi-panic all day and it was not going well. Sitting in the drawing room after the conversation with his father, he’d stared at Trevor’s duffel until there’d been voices at the door that finally broke his reverie. He’d had to rush around and straighten everything while the other TA had waited for him to clear out. Fortunately, Grant was a sweet man and had been very easy about it.

He still didn’t know what he would do about Shaft’s threat. He was cleanly torn. There was no way he could fail Trevor unless it was warranted. His own sense of integrity refused that outright, even to save his own job. But what good would quitting do? It didn’t solve the actual problem of Shaft willfully failing Belmont or the possibility of it happening to someone else. Or if it already had happened, Adrian thought unhappily.

The TA had felt ill all day waiting to hear about what happened to Trevor. The rumors swirling around campus were frustrating and terrible. Adrian felt helpless. He was only too aware that such rumors would stay with Trevor forever now. He would never escape them while he remained on campus. As someone whose identity was frequently assumed immediately and often before he was ever introduced, Adrian knows what a burden this could be.

His fingers flexed on the duffel in his hand as he raised his fist to knock on Trevor’s door.

Carrying Belmont’s bag through the rest of his day had been bizarrely intimate and he’d been hyper-aware of it. Adrian had indulged in a little fantasy about having picked up the wrong bag this morning from the apartment that Trevor, Sypha and he shared. Imagining what it would be like to return home to them. To share a meal with them and then… Adrian felt his cheeks heat.

What is going on with me, he wondered again. I’ve never thought about sex so much in my whole damn life as I have this past month! To be fair to himself, the fantasy had only started after Mina, Soma’s associate, had called to let Adrian know that the lawyer fully expected Trevor would be released without being charged. When she’d called him again, 45 minutes later to confirm that indeed, Belmont would be released in the next half an hour, Adrian had felt immense relief and then immediate curiosity. What had happened?

He hoped that Trevor might tell him. He looked around one more time, wondering if this would be the only time he would ever be invited here. The apartment was considerably farther from campus than Adrian’s condo and in a part of town he’d been to maybe twice. Each time he’d been uneasy and this was no exception.

Adrian had been very aware of the burnt-out street lights and the broken bottles on the pavement when he’d mounted the steps. The door was supposed to lock but he’d discovered it didn’t when he’d stopped to try to read the names beside the buzzers. He couldn’t see anything through the elaborate graffiti liberally sprayed across the front of the building, but then someone had come through the door without using the handle. He’d caught it and realized that the latch was broken.

The stairs had smelled horrendous and there were stains Adrian didn’t want to think about on the walls. Belmont is brave to live here, Adrian thought, and immediately was embarrassed by his privilege to never have to consider living in a place like this.

He knocked on the door, the first rap quiet and the following two louder as he realized that Belmont might not hear him. Adrian glanced over when the neighboring door opened and a half-naked girl popped out. She scowled at him, breasts bouncing in a fishnet top. “You are not pizza!” She declared and slammed the door shut.

“Sorry…” Adrian said, his flush dark, and jerked his head back when Belmont opened the door. The painter was completely off guard. This left him unprepared for the combination of a smile, miles of tanned skin that glistened slightly, incredible shoulders that tensed and danced under a slight sprinkle of freckles and a bare chest he wanted to cast in bronze.

Oh yes, Adrian thought as he watched the faint glow of the hallway light pick up the golden reds in Belmont’s chest hair as they shimmered around his nipples, you are stunning. What made his jaw drop though, was the elaborate crest picked out in black over Trevor’s heart and the “Honor Above All,” scrawled above it. He has a tattoo! Adrian thought. Immediately, it was the sexiest thing he never would have thought of.

For a moment and then two, they just stared at each other; Trevor smiling and Adrian’s lips parted and eyes wide. Damn it, Adrian thought unsteadily. If Trevor was an ice cream cone he’d be experiencing massive brain freeze right now from trying to deep throat Belmont with his eyes. Desire had dropped into his composure like a calving glacier into the ocean. I want him so much I can’t stand it. I have to get out of here, right now, the painter thought.

“Your bag.” He held it out and Trevor’s hand closed over it. “You live far from campus. It’s nice. Nice place. I hope you are well. See you next week,” Adrian said like he was reciting his date of birth and mother’s maiden name at the DMV.

“Hey! Wait a second,” Trevor said, following him out into the hallway, still carrying the duffel. Adrian turned and tried to look at anything but the way Belmont’s abs moved and… oh be still my stirring dick, the blonde thought, his pants are unbuttoned and Imma just…

“This is really kind of you. Thank you for bringing this to me, all this way. As you said, I live far from campus.” Trevor laughed, “Although I don’t know how you could think this place is nice; it’s gracious of you to say so.”

Adrian nodded and abruptly understood that it would seem like he was agreeing that the place wasn’t nice. “No pecs—problem! I mean, no problem.” He enunciated like he would get $100 for every vowel. Hold it together and get the hell out of here! he thought. “It is nice. Has character. Pizza starved neighbors. It’s nice.”

Trevor grinned. “Did Danielle come out in something fun again? You’re blushing.”

“What? No! I mean yes. I mean her top left little to the imagination but I don’t blush. I just… it’s warm in here.” Adrian shifted, tucking his hands deeper into his coat. The truth was he was shivering but it wasn’t from cold.

Trevor smirked, “Danielle is very friendly. I am not surprised you are warm.”

Adrian felt his blush deepen and wished he could be as cool as Trevor seemed to be half-naked. “She was not happy I wasn’t pizza. If she’s been nice to you, she obviously sees something in you that I was lacking.” Wow, really Adrian?  He thought. That was smooth and super confident, way to make conversation.

Trevor’s brow raised and he looked at Adrian slowly, giving him the once over. It took everything in the painter not to shrink. Belmont’s gaze felt like hands and it was shocking how much he wanted to lean into it, to step into that chest, bring his hands up, cup his cheeks and… Trevor snorted and Adrian went cold. Please don’t, please just don’t make fun of

“Danielle must be really drunk then, you look great.” Trevor grinned and Adrian blinked. Wait, what?

“She seemed okay to me?” the TA said and gulped when Trevor stepped toward him. It was completely unfair that he could see the ripple of muscle work it’s way across Belmont’s entire body. Once again, the blonde wondered where Trevor worked out because the man was tanned and built like he tossed bales all day.

Trevor’s duffel shifted and there was a crackling in it. Belmont looked down at the bag with a curious expression, “What is that?”

“Oh! The Sun chips you left on your bench. I tucked them in there.” You need to apologize for Shaft, Adrian thought. Belmont bent down to rummage around in his duffel. “Listen, I just wanted to say that I am really sorry for Professor Shaft, I should have warned you—”

Trevor withdrew the bag of chips. “Are you that hungry, Belmont? Like right now?” It was irksome to apologize to the top of his head and his pants were gaping at the back. The top of his ass should not look that amazing, Adrian thought and blanked out on everything but that forbidden, enticing valley. I just want to lean over and trace my fingertips down…

“You tried to, remember? My first class.” Wait what? I don’t remember touching your ass?!

“Don’t worry about it. I have been dealing with his kind for years. Not your fault. These are for you.” Oh not your ass, just Professor Ass, okay.

Trevor looked up and offered him the bag of chips. “I’m sorry?” Adrian asked, brain still making his fingertips tingle with hope.

Trevor looked amused. “These chips. They are for you. I owe you chips, remember?”

I do not remember… I… Helpfully, his brain reminded him what it felt like to straddle Belmont, feel all that strength and fury vibrate under him, strain against his hands and buck up against his cock.

“Oh, that.” He said. “This is a full bag and it was like four…” He trailed off as Trevor took his hand, chips and duffel forgotten. Heat raced up Adrian’s arm. His whole body felt immersed in a warm rain, sunlight peeking out of impossible blue skies and dancing over a million diamonds sliding over his body. The painter tensed and he swallowed hard, mesmerized by those astonishing blue eyes.

His eyes are unbelievable, Adrian thought, wondering if he would ever be able to mix such a radiance out of his paints. I could spend my life trying and still not capture that blue or those tiny flecks of violet. The twisted crease of the scar that ran over his eye somehow just accentuated the brilliance like God thought the sculptor needed an exclamation mark.

“Adrian.” Trevor said tenderly. His voice was wrapped up in rough stubble and soft strokes. Adrian’s mouth went dry. The sculptor stood slowly, still holding his hand. They stood so closely that a deep breath would bring their chests together. The TA could smell clean soap, faint cigarettes, that metallic tang and the faint nuttiness of malted barley. Trevor’s hair was damp and this close, Adrian realized his skin was dewy too, like he’d just showered.

Trevor’s dark lashes covered his eyes as his gaze dropped to Adrian’s mouth. Awareness slapped across the painter’s face as that burning gaze scorched his lips. Reflexively he licked his lips to cool them and Trevor loosed a tiny groan. “I just…let me…” Belmont murmured, and cupped Adrian’s cheek. Twin fangs of excitement and fear pierced the TA’s throat and he held his breath.

When Trevor leaned in, the world slowed to timeless instant that shimmered like fish scales in sparkling water. Everything was perfect, poignant, right. And then Belmont was kissing him.

Adrian had been kissed before. Okay, not lots of times and apparently those kisses were the equivalent of him splashing around in one of those kiddie pools with a dumbass blow up palm tree attached to it, but it had happened. If he’d had any idea that kissing could be a tsunami of sensation that unleashed riots of satisfaction under his skin, he might have sought out the experience more often.

As it was, he was pretty sure it had more to do with the skillful man currently devastating his mouth in a masterpiece of lips and tongue. He kisses like he knows what I want, Adrian thought. He kisses like he understands what’s in the dark shadows of need and he’s offering them a slow waltz into my mouth. Trevor’s stubble scraped over his cheeks, a landscape of raw demand, and his thumb traced small circles on Adrian’s skin.

Trevor’s mouth was a complex balance of unrestrained fire and controlled welcome. It was like sinking into an inviting warmth that got hotter the further in you went. It was seductive, but there was a real risk of coming away from the embrace burned. Like an astronomer looking at a solar eclipse, the chance for Adrian to experience something he might never, ever have again outweighed his fear of the danger.

The painter tentatively brought his hands up to Trevor’s shoulders and lightly brushed his fingertips over the damp skin. Trevor’s breath hitched sharply and Adrian startled, breaking the kiss. “I’m sor—,” he started to say and Trevor urged him back with a firm hand on the small of his back, calloused thumb still on Adrian’s cheek.

“Touch me,” Belmont murmured against his lips and prickles of anticipation raked across Adrian’s belly and down his thighs. Lightly, exploring, the blonde stroked down into the tantalizing hair that had entranced him from the moment he’d seen the brunette stretch in the drawing class. The little yes” the sculptor muttered into his mouth emboldened him to curl his fingers into the chest hair and give a little tug.

Trevor nipped his lower lip and it was Adrian’s gasp that broke the kiss this time. It was just a moment and Belmont found his mouth again, licking into the parting of the painter’s lips and lightly dipping his tongue inside, the tip just grazing Adrian’s tongue. He moaned Trevor’s name into that exquisite tongue and couldn’t even be embarrassed by how wanton he sounded.

I was right, Adrian thought, his focus while creating art would carry over to bed. This is what it feels like to be ravished, to be completely undone. I think I love it. Don’t stop, don’t let this end, just… Trevor’s hands crept up into Adrian’s hair and pulled him deep. This time, when Adrian gasped, Trevor just swallowed it, lapping at his lips like the painter was sweet tea on a hot day. The fists in his hair were divine insistence, urging Adrian to feel, to take, to yield. He did all of it.

When Trevor eased back from him, Adrian blinked like someone had just turned on the lights. “Thank you,” he murmured and felt like an idiot. Who does that? Says thank you after being kissed? Anyone who’s been kissed like that, his brain told him.

Trevor grinned. “Oh you are most welcome. I have wanted to do that for a while now.” His gaze gentled. “Actually, I need to thank you. Not just for that kiss, although it definitely warrants gratitude, but for everything else you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be here right now, if you hadn’t helped me.”

Adrian winced, “Please don’t. I didn’t do anything. Sypha did. She called Soma and arranged it; I just paid for it. It’s only money.”

Trevor’s face transformed. Gentle sweetness and banked desire winked out of existence and was replaced with a sharp watchfulness that cut into Adrian so quickly he didn’t even feel the pain. At first.

The grip on his shoulder became uncomfortable and Belmont hissed, “You did what?”

Adrian was confused, alarm slowly reverberating through him and dampening the honied haze of desire. Something was really wrong and he was only just now cluing into that. Adrian had no idea what it was. “Paying Soma Cruz? Isn’t that what we are talking about?”

“You paid for my lawyer? Why!” Trevor asked him, abruptly releasing him and stepping back. It was maybe a foot but it felt like Trevor had moved to the other side of the moon. The physical distance ripped into Adrian and left him aching.

What did I do wrong? He thought. Did he not feel that between us? Frantically he replayed the last ten seconds and stiffened. My money. The money of the entitled and talentless Alucard Tepes. The nobody.

---

He’d known the moment he’d opened the door. Maybe it was because he was riding the high of Sypha’s declaration of love. Maybe it was the slight tremble, the audible swallow or just the faint mist of rain on Adrian’s blonde hair. Whatever it was, Sypha had been right, and Trevor had been so blind. Adrian wanted him and the knowledge was staggering.

It made Trevor tease, it made him flirt and when he’d looked up at Adrian and saw those parted lips, it’d made him want to seduce. And I did, he thought triumphantly, tasting eagerness on Adrian’s tongue. Everything about the blonde was enchanting. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure who was seducing whom. The painter smelled like flowers and licorice, the very faint sharpness of turpentine, and clean but old homes.

The fabric of the TA’s three-quarter-length jacket did nothing to hide his very real and very hard desire for Trevor. The sculptor was actively willing himself not to grind into him like bear trying to itch its back on a tree.

The blonde tasted of sweetness, something like rose water, and a tranquil, cool quiet. Adrian’s lips were hesitant and surrendering, which made everything in Trevor narrow into an intense need to take and possess.

There was something in the delicacy of Adrian’s touch and the little noises of surprise every time Trevor deepened the kiss or stroked over his hair, that made Trevor suspect Adrian’s sexual experience was extremely limited. Sypha’s ‘we need to be gentle,’ echoed like a gong in his mind and he worked to keep this kiss light.

The possibility of the trio seemed very real to him now. Adrian was far from immune to him. Whatever the painter may think of Belmont’s history, lack of respectable background and financial situation, could be overcome with desire and a mutual respect for each other’s art. There were some issues to hash out obviously, but if this kiss was any indication there was more than enough attraction to overcome them.

When Adrian moaned his name, Trevor felt victorious lust flood him. I knew my name would sound so pretty when you’d say it like that.

I should tell him everything, Trevor thought. Tell him I was wrong and I am sorry. Tell him thank you for the scholarship. Tell him about what I thought of his art from the Xpose article. Tell him I think he is gorgeous. Trevor smiled, remembering the first time he’d seen Adrian’s mane of blonde hair and cool golden eyes. Eyes that even now were unfocused with lust and then lost beneath unreal, long lashes.

It’d been stunning to see them so close again and to really look into them. There were threads of amber, copper, gold and even cream in them. My favorite part was when desire widened his pupils though, he thought. Yearning for me; for my mouth on his.

Trevor reflexively tightened his hands in the painter’s hair. It was damp and soft under his hands and when the blonde instinctively thrust his hips into his, Trevor thought he might fall to his knees right here in the hallway.

Shit, the hallway, he thought, they were in the hallway of his apartment building! The idea that he was kissing Adrian Tepes in the rundown, rank corridor of his close-to-condemned apartment complex was enough to have him easing back. This wasn’t what he wanted to give him, and it wasn’t what Adrian deserved.

“Thank you,” Adrian whispered; the sincere, almost sleepily contented tone laced with kindled passion. The blonde’s flush deepened and Trevor was utterly captivated.

The smile that Adrian’s flush brought to the sculptor’s face was huge and satisfied. “Oh you are most welcome. I have wanted to do that for a while now.” Tell him Trevor, the time is right. “Actually, I need to thank you. Not just for that kiss, although it definitely warrants gratitude, but for everything else you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be here right now, if you hadn’t helped me.”

He saw Adrian’s wince and the blonde’s eyes dropped for a moment. When they met his again, Trevor felt Tepes’ reluctance. “Please don’t. I didn’t do anything. Sypha did. She called Soma and arranged it; I just paid for it. It’s only money.”

If the painter had kneed him in his liver it would have been less explosively painful. Trevor’s pride and his shields came to full alert within a single breath. No. He didn’t, he couldn’t, how did he… His hand tightened on Adrian, as his brain screamed at him that the painter had. It’s only money. Is it though?

“You did what?” Trevor growled. He could see Adrian was confused. It wasn’t cute. It only reminded Trevor that Adrian wouldn’t even understand why this was an issue for him, why the sculptor shouldn’t just take the money. Like the brunette should be grateful to have it forced on him. After all, I am a Belmont; taking money is just what we do, right? Trevor thought with rising fury. It’s all we care about!

The painter spoke slowly, as though Trevor was stupid. “Paying Soma Cruz? Isn’t that what we are talking about?”

No, it was not, he thought, but it damn well is now. “You paid for my lawyer? Why!” Trevor asked Adrian, suddenly aware he was holding the TA too tightly and was too angry to safely touch him. The sculptor released him and stepped back.

Something came over Adrian’s face, uncertainty, alarm, a flash of what might have been hurt and then, like a storefront closing for the night, utter blankness. It was fascinating. Trevor hadn’t realized until right then how good the painter was at hiding his emotions.

“I beg your pardon,” Adrian said, icy calm. “I thought I was helping. I forgot that Tepes money is so repugnant to you, that you’d rather sit in prison.” It was like the painter slashed Trevor wide open. There it is, he thought. There is what he really thinks of me. All passion and certainty avalanched away from the brunette in a deadly cascade.

“So sure, are you?” Trevor snarled. “That’s where I would end up, because that’s where all Belmonts belong isn’t it? I don’t need your money; I don’t want it! Stop throwing it at me, I told you! You can’t buy me!”

Adrian’ smile was humorless and cold. “As if I would want to buy you. As if that’s something I do. You assume a great deal, and know nothing about me.” Something was bleeding out of Trevor, something vital and warm and hopeful. Rising up in its place was a cold grief that numbed out his anger and made him want to break something.

“How can I possibly ever know anything about you?” he retorted. “You share nothing but your money, the one thing you think gives you power. But your secrets? The thing that might make you vulnerable? Well, why would you share that with a lowly nobody?” Trevor’s voice was rising and his fists were so tight they were tingling.

“What the hell is going on?” Sypha asked from the doorframe and Trevor turned to her. Worry and concern were etched across her face and he saw that she’d finally just gotten dressed in her own leggings and his hoodie. He’d forgotten she’d squealed in horror when Adrian had knocked and shoved Trevor out to the door before diving back into the closet muttering about ‘terrifying’ the blonde. She had not appreciated his smug suggestion she just answer the door naked.

It might have gone better if she had, Trevor thought despairingly.

“Adrian paid for Soma,” he said and Sypha nodded. Trevor absorbed the implications with another huge blow. “You fucking knew.” Betrayal was bitter in his mouth. I love you. I know it’s too soon… I won’t risk him. I’ve known him for a year.

He looked back at Adrian. “You just get whatever you want, don’t you? It doesn’t matter what anyone else wants, what anyone else feels.”

“Trevor, stop. You don’t know what you are saying.” Sypha was wrenching on her boots, and stepped into the hall. He looked at the woman he loved and felt like a fool.

“No, I know exactly what I am saying. Maybe it’s you who didn’t. Maybe you don’t know who you really want. Tell you what Sypha,” he looked back at Adrian, “Tepes. Why don’t you two figure it out and let me know, hmmm? I think I am done with company tonight. Get the fuck out.”

Sypha’s eyes were huge and alarmed. “Trevor, wait a minute, we need to…” He stalked past her, grabbed a plastic bag for her clothes, and was shoving them into it when she came back in the apartment. “Stop! Stop! What are you doing! Talk to me!”

It was the note of panic in her voice that made him look up. Maybe he would have talked to her; maybe he would have listened. But there was Adrian standing behind her, tall, black coat elegantly swept around him, face pale and tense as he looked into the small, shabby apartment that Trevor called home. Son of a bitch, Trevor thought, ignoring the pang of shame.

He shoved Sypha’s bag at her and used his hand to propel her toward the door and Tepes. It was only at the doorframe that she finally fought him. “Trevor don’t do this, I am begging you, please don’t…”

It was destroying him, hearing this, seeing her panic and Adrian’s impassive face in the corner of his eye, like they hadn't just been wrapped up in each other like the world could end and no one else existed.

Trevor stopped shoving her. When Sypha turned, he made himself say it. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want him here. Please leave me alone.” Her jaw dropped, her chin trembled and he knew she was going to cry. He shut the door in her face.

--- 

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I'll wait for you
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you
Through the storm, we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you
With or without you
I can't live with or without you

-"With or Without You," U2

Notes:

Damn it Trevor.

---
Thanks to Matheus Viana for the architectural background and Anni Roenkae for the abstract artwork. Both talents can be found on Pexels. Model of Adrian is Paul Boche, model for Trevor is Jagger (no last name listed).

Chapter 13: Touch me once and you'll know it's true

Summary:

Shock, envy and dismay all warred for dominance as he told her about the kiss. He told her how it had felt to be held and adored by a mouth that seemed to know and accept everything about him. The freedom and hope of believing that Trevor might want him, and then realizing that once again, being a Tepes had ruined everything. Damn it, Trevor, she thought, fighting to remain quiet, if only you could have stayed calm and asked instead of jumping to conclusions!

Notes:

Nov 11-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The entire ride back to Adrian's condo Sypha held it in. Her skin felt brittle, like black paper that stayed together after it's been burnt. If you touched it, it would disintegrate. Even the Uber driver must have realized something was up because he didn't try to make conversation.

Adrian didn't look at her and he didn't speak to her. She knew though, she could hear it in his breath. He was as close to tears as she was. She wanted to comfort him but it just wasn’t in her right now.

When they stood on the step of his condo building and Adrian coded in his passkey for the door, he finally looked at her. “I’m sorry Sypha, he was angry with me and then he took it out on you.”

Don’t do this, not here, not now, she thought. I can’t, just let me do this in private, Adrian.

“Please, your apartment. I can’t out here, I just can’t,” she said. He nodded and held the door. The journey to his front door was weighted silence and when he turned the doorknob into the space, Sypha pushed past him into the kitchen. She threw her bag across the counter, whirled and screamed at the ceiling. It was incoherent, angry and filled with despair.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Adrian slowly take off his coat and hang it up. Moving like he’d broken something, he pulled out the chair at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and sat.

Why had Trevor been like that? Why was this happening?! How could I be so wrong?! She couldn’t believe how cruel Trevor had been. The playful, kind man who’d touched her with aching tenderness and looked at her like she was the first sunrise he’d ever seen, had been so bitterly angry and so emotionally remote that it’d flayed her alive. Her scream tapered off into a whimpering moan. Throat raw, Sypha slumped to the floor.

This love hurt, it broke her bones and inserted poison into every hollow inside of her. And she had no idea what had happened to have this outcome. Whatever had gone down in the hallway had destroyed any hope she had of the trio, and now, she was realizing, possibly any chance she had with Trevor.

No, she told herself, as she wiped tears that streamed liberally down her face, he’s not escaping that easily. This is fixable and I will be damned if he can tell me he loves me and then kick me out of his life.

With a deep breath, Sypha looked up and saw him. Ram-rod straight, staring into space, expressionless, Adrian was horribly pale. He picked mechanically at his nails and his jaw was clenched so tight that her own ached in sympathy.

Sypha had exploded to get her pain out. She knew her best friend; inside, he was imploding. The painter would be internally compacting the anguish over and over in an attempt to make it small enough that he could bury it. It would hide away inside him, rotting and festering, unless she could get him to talk about it.

She stood and grimaced at the streaks of grease she’d left on the wood floor. Probably left it in the Uber too. Whatever, I will clean later, she thought, and came over to Adrian. Kneeling in front of him, she carefully put her hands onto his thigh. He jerked back, hard, and stared at her like he didn’t know she’d been screaming her guts out five feet away.

“Adrian, what happened?” she asked him, and it was like a child’s sandcastle and the eager tide. He just fell apart. She didn’t try to push him for the words and she didn’t try to make sense of it. She just held him as he collapsed into her, overturning the chair and draped over her until she had to put out an arm to stay upright. It hurt just as much as Trevor’s rejection, to hear Adrian’s tiny, choked sobs. What the fuck had happened? She wondered again.

Her arm had gone numb by the time he’d managed to calm down and she gave up trying to support them both. Instead, she gently eased herself down, keeping a firm hand on his head where she’d been stroking his hair and brought him with her. They ended up in a funny tangle on the kitchen floor, Adrian’s head on her chest, listening to her heart beat.

Shock, envy and dismay all warred for dominance as he told her about the kiss. He told her how it had felt to be held and adored by a mouth that seemed to know and accept everything about him. The freedom and hope of believing that Trevor might want him, and then realizing that once again, being a Tepes had ruined everything. Damn it, Trevor, she thought, fighting to remain quiet, if only you could have stayed calm and asked instead of jumping to conclusions!

Unfortunately, she could see just how it had played out in Belmont’s mind, including how he’d roped her into it. I should have told him from the beginning, she thought, although this is exactly why I was trying to figure out how to tell his stubborn ass. Still, she wished she’d handled it better, that the outcome might have been different, for all their sakes.

“The worst part is, I think I love him.” Adrian said. Sypha’s heart stuttered and sprouted wings. “How do I love him, Sypha? He hates me and I love him? How pathetic is that? What is wrong with me? I don’t even know him!”

She stroked his hair and inhaled his lavender and licorice scent. How ironic was it, that we would both fall in love with Belmont, right when he decided he wanted nothing to do with us? She thought wryly.

Adrian shuddered. “And here I am feeling sorry for myself, when I not only kissed your boyfriend but I made him kick you out. I’m such a shithead. I am the worst friend,” Adrian started to get up and turned to her.

His hair fell down like a curtain scented of rain and faint paint thinner, brushing beside her ear and softly stroking her shoulder. Sypha looked at him, and he looked at her. He was heartbreakingly beautiful. Lovely, soft and tragic; thick lashes with winking gold between them. There was such a simmering emotion here, a deep and abiding understanding.

“I am sorry,” he said softly, and swallowed, “I had no business, no right and I…” Sypha touched his cheek, ran her thumb over his lips. I would kiss you, she thought, if I wasn’t so sure it would break you right now. She wondered if he would kiss her back; if he might understand what was behind it. But he was too raw and the moment was all wrong.

“I love him too,” she said with a sad smile, letting her hand fall away. “The dumb asshole.” Adrian’s laugh was more of a sob than anything. “Do you know that I love you too?” she told him. “I am not upset you kissed him; I am happy for you. I am sorry it ended so badly though. He is not easy to love, but holy, is he worth it. When he holds you, the world just slips away.”

Adrian closed his eyes and sat up. He dragged his hand through his hair and sighed. “We need to talk.”

Sypha trembled, and something thick and terrified try to claw into her throat to hide. I can’t take another rejection today, she thought and took a breath. “Alright. Absolutely. Could we get off the floor though? I’m getting cold,” she said.

Adrian jumped up and offered her a hand. “I’m so stupid, I am sorry! I didn’t even think of that,” he drew her up and she staggered into him. Her leg had gone to sleep. When she looked up at him, he looked at her mouth. “You kept me warm,” he murmured, and his tone skittered up her spine like seeking fingertips.

Suddenly, Sypha knew, whatever her best friend was going to say, it wasn’t going to be a rejection. She swallowed, her stomach fluttering like a plastic bag caught in a fence on a windy day. Looks like today is going to be a big one, she thought and tried not to get her hopes up. She failed miserably and shivered with anticipation.

“You are cold,” he said, brow furrowed with concern, “Let me get you a throw. I can turn the fireplace on.” She nodded and shook her leg to wake it up. He led her to the counter and put her hand on it, making sure she was balanced and stable before he moved away. She watched him cross the living room and took a minute to let the tingling sensation in her leg ease.

Looking around her, she smiled. The redhead had been here before and liked Adrian’s place a lot. They’d talked about moving in together once her lease with the twins was up and she had secretly hoped that the invitation might be extended to Trevor as well. Now that seemed impossible.

Belmont would like it too, she thought with a sad sense of irony. It was within walking distance to campus and surrounded by galleries, pubs and a neat mix of thrift stores and boutiques. It wasn’t terribly trendy, but more like comfortably artsy. The apartment itself was light and airy, original wood floors and tall white walls. It’d been beautifully restored and Vlad and Lisa had gifted it to Adrian when he graduated high school. The painter had known this school was where he wanted to go since he was sixteen.

Adrian had packed it with art. There were paintings, sculptures and drawings everywhere. He had crammed walls with it and then left some walls completely bare. There was an appealing symmetry to it that she was certain had been instinctive, rather than by design. Some of the furniture he’d taken from his room at home, some he’d inherited and some he’d bought and refinished or painted himself. Everything was comfortable but somehow elegant. Much like the man that lived here.

The blonde started the gas fireplace and moved to the low white couch for a knitted throw. She had to smile. They’d found the afghan together at an estate sale. It was incredibly 80’s, with neon colored flowers and a black background. Her leg finally allowed her to walk forward and she headed toward the couch. Just as she was about to sit, she remembered.

“My pants!” she said abruptly and was grateful she hadn’t sat on the pristine white.

“What? Oh, wow, what happened! It looks like you were attacked by—black slime? No, by brownie mix?” The painters face was completely bewildered and Sypha started to laugh.

“Brownie mix?” she wheezed, and he snickered too.

“Well that or you shit yourself, but I wasn’t going to say it!” he said with a helpless shrug. Sypha laughed harder and he joined her. It was cleansing somehow, easing the tension between them and settling her.

“It’s grease, but it might as well be shit. I don’t think I will ever get it out. Do you have a pair of leggings I could borrow? Maybe a t-shirt too? I am pretty sure I got grease on Trevor’s hoodie as well,” she grinned at him.

“I do, hang on,” he said and stepped toward the door to the next room. He turned, “Actually just come with me, it’ll be faster. Just don’t sit down on anything, ha ha.” Sypha stuck her tongue out but followed him down the hall, past his studio space, the bathroom, the spare room and into the room at the back.

It was large and faced out over the smaller buildings on the edge of downtown. The evening was coming on now and long shadows filled the room and fell over the bed. It was a quiet space, black sheets, black duvet and three trailing ivy plants in a window box five feet above the bed. There were only three paintings on the walls. All were large, and dominated the room.

Sypha had always been surprised by the artwork as they were undeniably erotic in a way that seemed uncharacteristic of Adrian. It was hard for her to put her finger on exactly why for the first one, which hung to the left of his bed. It was abstract slashes of color in bold red, white and black and somehow gave the impression of speed and heat.

The second one hung across from the bed and she’d often thought it was an interesting choice to wake up to and to fall asleep looking at. She knew it was Adrian’s work; all smooth oils, painfully delicate, realistic details and lovingly rendered colors.

It was a close-up of a long hand pressed into the pale skin of an undefined body part. Privately, Sypha thought it looked like a throat, but she’d never asked. Under the skin of the ‘throat’ was a riot of blooming flowers that looked like they were buried under a transparent curtain.

The last one, opposite the abstract, was entirely black and white; two hands clasped together tightly. There was something in the way they fit together that looked like twining bodies caught in ecstasy. It was a clever illusion and skillfully depicted. This one was also Adrian’s work, but older. His style was evident but not as clearly defined at the hand on the flower ‘throat.’

Adrian crossed over to his closet and opened the doors. “Maybe turn on the lamp?” he suggested offhandedly. Reaching over to the honey-toned wooden bureau, she flicked the switch on the beaten copper lamp. A warm glow cast out and his closet illuminated at the same time. There was an overhead light in the closet and Sypha had to grin. Adrian’s closet was neat, tidy and opulent. It was his pride and joy.

Rows of black and more black dominated the space, but there were splashes of plum, maroon, sapphire and navy in there as well. There was a small row of hats and then floor to ceiling shoes almost exclusively in, surprise, surprise, black. They were polished to a high gloss and lovingly arranged.

Beside the closet was an art deco vanity in need of varnishing, with a small jewelry box and hooks with various chains and necklaces hanging from them. A tiny, delicate porcelain forest nymph was draped in the velvet and silk ribbons that Adrian would use to tie his hair back for art openings. Beside it, in a frame she’d decorated with seashells, was a picture of them.

She crossed over to the frame and picked it up, feeling a squeeze around her heart. Adrian was laughing into the camera and Sypha had her eyes closed, smiling with her cheek pressed into his shoulder as she took the selfie. They’d taken this together just a few months ago, on Sypha's birthday.

They’d gone to the beach on his parents’ private island with two other friends and everyone had gotten stupid drunk, spending the weekend splashing around and playing in the sand. It had been ridiculously fun and Sypha had collected a literal suitcase worth of seashells. She’d made this frame from some of the shells and printed the photograph. She had given it to him, as a thank you.

There had been a point on that trip when she’d looked over at Adrian to see his head thrown back, sun spearing through his hair and cheeks rounded from laughter. She’d been achingly aware that her desire had never really died and had thought then that she might never really get over him. I should have known then, she thought, I should have done something then. I never should have let it get to this.

“I love that picture,” Adrian said softly and she looked up. He was standing, one arm braced on the closet door, and the other in the pocket of his pants. “It makes me happy to see it everyday. Just like our bats, by the hallway mirror.” Bat Company, she thought with pleasure. It’d been something she’d made on the computer for fun after they’d dressed up as vampires for Halloween. He’d reacted like she’d gifted him a Caravaggio or something.

“It was a great time,” Sypha agreed, “it makes me happy to see it too. We should go back some day.” She gently put the picture frame back down and looked up at him. Surprise skated across her when she registered that he was staring at her. What are you thinking? she wondered and was just about to ask him, when he turned back to the closet.

“I think you should just wear one of my sweaters or a blouse. They’ll hit you just above the knee and we can hike up the sleeves.” She couldn’t see his face but she could hear his smirk. “We can roll it up to the shoulders and it should just hit you at the wrist.”

“Hey! I am not that short!” She said indignantly. His murmured, “mmmm,” was not convincing.

“Listen punk, I could still kick your ass anytime, okay?” She grinned at his mock cringe.

“Terrifying, truly. Sweater or blouse?” he asked.

“Let’s layer for now,” she answered, and he tossed the silk blouse, then the sweater.

“I’ll grab your bag of clothes. If you toss out your hoodie and your leggings—” Sypha was already stripping off the pants, intent on ensuring that the grease stay rolled up inside them. She looked up.

Oops, she thought as her skin tingled, I wasn’t thinking.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her in her underwear before. She had modelled in it for his artwork. Granted, it was usually her plain black sports bra and boy shorts and this was a purple lace Brazilian with her ass hanging out, but he couldn’t really see that much, just the barest bottom curve as she bent over. But he’d never looked at her like this before. He’d never looked at her like he saw her nakedness before.

Adrian’s flush was sweet. His death grip on the closet door handle was endearing. But the molten desire in his eyes? That was ridiculously sexy. I knew it, she thought, straightening slowly and stepping out of her leggings. His gaze travelled up her bare legs and for the first time in a long time, Sypha felt nervous. What does he see? What does he think? She wondered and resisted fidgeting.

She’d always told herself that he would have to make the first move. There was too much on the line for her to risk ruining their friendship with a misinterpretation. On the other hand, Sypha had been looked at with lust before, and she knew that was how Adrian was looking at her now. His eyes seemed glued to the hem of her hoodie and for an agonizing moment, Sypha didn’t know what to do.

Testing, she put her hands on the hem and carefully started to lift it. When it reached the inner curve of her upper thigh, Adrian abruptly jerked and said, “I should go, I’m sorry, I didn’t—!” and Sypha stifled her sigh.

She let the hem fall again and said, “Stop. Please.” Her best friend’s face was flaming, but he did stop, halfway to the door and his back to her. “Just stay there a moment, I will finish changing. You are right, we must talk.”

She yanked the hoodie over her head and slipped the black silk over her shoulders. It was cool and sleek against her skin and smelled like her best friend. My best friend, whom I desperately want to make my lover, she thought. Who is so shy and worried, that he wants me and can’t say it. Who might never be able to say it… But I saw it. There was no question. That’s twice now.

Sypha is used to taking charge, but this was terrifying. She cared so much about the outcome to this encounter, and it could go horribly wrong if she pushed too hard. For a moment, she just stood there, blouse open down the middle, hands clasping either side of the shirt, and staring at the floor, thinking. Like a tongue scraping over her, she felt it and looked up.

Adrian was looking over his shoulder at her. Lips parted, eyes dilated and hands clenched, there was no mistaking the longing on his face. The anxiety there though, so sharp that it might have been fear, settled everything inside her. She understood what she needed to do.

“I want you,” she told him, keeping her tone even and quiet. His eyes widened, honed in on her face and he inhaled sharply. Please let that be a good sign, she thought and continued. “I always have. I’ve been afraid of hurting you, of ruining our friendship, of losing someone that means everything to me.”

His cheeks flushed and he turned slowly to her. He’s not running, she thought with rising hope. “I wasn’t kidding, that other day in the drawing class. Neither was Trevor, we—” That was a mistake, she thought immediately, watching pain etch itself like acid across his face. One step at a time, she reminded herself and took a breath.

His words tumbled out in a soft rush. “I’m afraid of disappointing you,” Adrian whispered. “I couldn’t bear it. You are so beautiful and you are everything I don’t deserve. It should be enough that you are my best friend. It was enough. But then…” He looked away. “I am not Belmont. I can’t be him and I know that. He can give you things that I can’t and I want you to be happy.”

This is his hang-up, Sypha realized. He is comparing, as though he and Trevor are two meals I am deciding between. Can't he see that we are all ingredients that could make a feast together? That we could all share ourselves? 

Sypha reflected that it would be a potluck like no other, but decided that might be a bit much to confess right now. “Do you believe me when I tell you that I know who you are? I love who you are?” She asked him, taking another step. His head rose up and he looked at her.

“Yes. I believe you love me for who I am; you have always made me feel that way,” he said, and nervously tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Can you trust me when I say that I don’t want more than that from you?” She watched his face as she stepped again. Closer. He’s terrified, she thought with dismay, as he shuddered and looked like he would bolt. She decided to make it plain. She was all in now anyway.

“I wanted you before Trevor was ever in the picture. I still do. I don’t want you to be Trevor. You could never be and that’s a good thing. Belmont could never be all the beautiful things that you are to me. I know it seems impossible right now, but I need you to trust me. This is right.”

She took another step and felt the silk flutter on her thighs. Adrian’s gilded eyes were on her face and he was listening. “The three of us? There is something there, something special. We balance each other, compliment each other. If we can just figure out how to communicate and work past all this bullshit, I swear, it could be the best thing that ever happened to us. To all of us.” Believe me, Adrian, I know it.

She stopped in front of him and looked up at him. “I don’t want to push you and I think we both need space and time today. We need to talk this out, be clear between us before we tackle the Trevor issue. But first, I want to repeat: I want you. I always have, and you would not be a disappointment.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, she found she could grin and dip into the history and humor between them. “If you wanted, all you’d have to do is lie there and take it. Believe me, I get wet just thinking about it.” His throat bobbed harshly, and she could tell from his jaw he was biting his tongue.

It was a surprise to them both when he brought his hand up, tentative, soft and hovering just over her shoulder. “Yes, you can touch me. Please. I would like that.” She told him, excitement spurting inside her chest. She grasped his wrist and brought his hand down. It fell over her collarbone, thumb dipping down toward her breasts and fingertips pressing into her throat.

It was like his hand was a generator that turned the lights on in the house of her body. Feelings and nerves she hadn’t even known she possessed turned on and started talking in unison. Every part of her was chanting his name. If you only knew, she thought, just what you mean to me. What making love to you would mean.

“You are always so soft,” he murmured, reverence and wonder in his voice. His thumb stroked just above the valley of her breasts and she held her breath. “So perfect. Every time I drew you, it struck me. Every time.”

So much wasted time, she thought, so much longing when we could have been together. When his hand drew back, she moaned quietly and his eyes flew open. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Sypha shook her head and exhaled in a shaky whoosh. “No, not even close. You felt…” the words tumbled by her, somehow just not enough. Incredible, amazing, perfect, divine…  she thought, and said, staggering. Being touched by you is right. It is like coming home.”

The knitted brow smoothed out and he smiled, gentle and hopeful. “Yes, exactly. It felt right.”

Take it slowly Sypha, she thought, let him lead. It was one thing for her to open this up between them, but she knew he needed to ease into it. She had yet to determine exactly how deep his fear of sex and fear of her disappointment went for him and until she could, she would wait. You can discuss it now; you still need to talk, she thought.

“I would like to have a conversation about this with you, right now if you can." She smiled, working for comforting. "I just want to be on the same page. I think its clear we want each other,” his grin was relief and anticipation all in one, but again, she saw the uncertainty. “But I would like to make some plans, if that is alright?” she finished.

Adrian took her hand and brought it to his lips. Oh damn, she thought as everything hot and pulsing inside of her melted down into honey that oozed into every pore. He was elegant romance and shy anticipation.

“'Making plans' sounds like my Sypha,” he whispered against the back of her hand.

--- 

Trying hard to control my heart
I walk over to where you are
Eye to eye we need no words at all
Slowly now we begin to move
Every breath I'm deeper into you
Soon we two are standing still in time
If you read my mind you'll see
I'm crazy for you
Touch me once and you'll know it's true
I never wanted anyone like this
It's all brand new
You'll feel it in my kiss

I'm crazy, crazy for you

-"Crazy for You," Madonna

Notes:

Dear Sypha,
You've got more balls than either of them and I love you.
Sincerely,
Me
---
As a continued theme, I really need to thank armouredescort, Flakeblood and the TurtleFromHell for their incredible cheerleading, thoughtful insights and sweet, funny comments. This was supposed to be a two-shot and it is in no small part to their encouragement that it has become the story it has. All my love for you fabulous authors! <3 (Go check them out, their work is stunning!)

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Sypha image from @FreestocksOrg, Adrian model is Leo Mangieri, art from Steve Johnson on Pexals (@Artbystevej1).

Chapter 14: If I could reach the stars

Summary:

He turned slowly and looked at his apartment, really looked at it. This is what Adrian saw, he thought and hated himself for caring. It was close to sparse but not quite. The sole furnishings were a worn but solid plaid couch, a floor lamp from the 70’s, a banged-up coffee table and mismatched plastic chairs around a tiny round table he’d rescued from a remodeled diner and cut down to a regular table height before he welded the foot back on. There were two piles of books on the coffee table, one open and facedown.

Currently the table and chairs were covered with a plastic tarp with engine parts, tools and debris. There was nothing here that wasn’t at least a decade old and that wasn’t second hand. There was nothing here that he gave a shit about. Everything could disappear into the non-descript garage sale where it had come from and he wouldn’t miss it.

Where am I in here? he wondered, and shook his head.

Notes:

Nov 12-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Trevor paced his apartment and swore. There simply wasn’t enough space in the damned place for a proper pacing and he was only becoming more frustrated. He didn’t want to think about Sypha, the sweet feel of her soft skin pressed up to his. Her murmured, “I love you,” and the storm of joy that blew through him to hear it. Her instant defense of Adrian. The wounded tremble of her lips as he shut the door in her face.

He didn’t want to think about Adrian and his little gasps of pleasure. The cool softness of the painter's hair in his fist and the yielding dip of surrender into Trevor's hand. The fascinating and awful mask that replaced that soft, sleepy tenderness. The sharp icicles of bitterness as he suggested Trevor would be in prison if not for Tepes money. A small part of Trevor told him that it was very likely the sculptor would be unless he’d be able to post bail, but the brunette didn’t want to hear that.

When the knock on the door came, Trevor whirled, ready to do battle and pissed as hell. I said leave me alone! he thought angrily and wrenched the door open. He had to blink and adjust when Danielle smiled slowly at him and raised her brow. She extended his duffel to him and said, “You forgot this.”

“Yes, thank you,” Trevor took it from her and she clucked appreciatively. When the chip bag crinkled in his duffel, Trevor ground his teeth.

“Looking really good there Trev,” she commented. “I like your ink.” Trevor worked for patience. He hated being called Trev. It was a bittersweet memory of his father and he didn’t care to be reminded.

At first, Danielle’s attention was flattering and lately it was amusing. Right now, it was irritating the hell out of him. He was not interested in Danielle and thought he’d been very clear about that. However, she continued to find reasons to run into him while wearing things like this mesh top. With nothing underneath it.

“What does it mean?” she asked him leaning on the doorframe and thrusting her breasts out, “honor above all?”

Fuck all, if I can’t get Tepes to stop spreading his money around, he thought.

Like a gnat that wouldn’t stay out of his ear, he heard Isaac’s voice. Sometimes there is no such thing as enough power for people Trevor, sometimes money isn’t enough. No, Trevor rejected it. Not possible. Not even Isaac thought that Adrian was involved. But maybe that’s where it comes from? Like father like son?

“It means to never forget that when you lose your honor, you’ve lost everything. Look, Danielle, I hate to be rude but I need to—” Trevor leaned against the door and that was a mistake.

“Then don’t be rude,” she smiled, coy and kittenish as she edged past him into the apartment.

Son of a bitch, he thought with frustration. It wouldn’t do to piss her off. She lived right next door and usually was fairly quiet. As the walls were paper thin here, it was best for his ability to sleep if they remained cordial. “I was actually headed out; I need to go back to school.” He said and Danielle trailed her finger over the back of his ancient plaid couch.

“Or you could stay in,” she said. “I heard you tell the little kids to get lost and I thought you might like a distraction.” Danielle smirked at him. Trevor wasn’t surprised she’d heard the argument. Probably everyone on the damn floor did. In his exasperation, he missed the innuendo. His neighbor spread her hands as if to show him something. “I was interested before but the audio show has led to a bit of a…itch for me. Would you like to scratch it?”

Holy fuck, she heard us, Trevor thought with shock and displeasure. The fucking walls. Trevor never blushed, but he felt heat rise to his cheeks as he recalled Sypha’s cries when she rode him. How she wailed out his name and told him to never stop fucking her when they switched. How she'd screamed, "Oh my God, again?!" when he'd found the right angle and she'd erupted around him.

He bit the side of his cheek to hold in his groan. Unfortunately, the memory didn’t just elevate his blood pressure.

“So you are interested,” his neighbor purred and glided toward him. Oh hell no, Trevor thought with a mixture of alarm and annoyance. He made an undignified dash to the door and took refuge in the public hallway.

“Nope, so sorry Danielle,” he said from the safety of the hallway. “I am very much not. Its been a trying day and the last thing I need is…more company. I appreciate it, really, but that is a firm no.” It’s a HELLLLL no, actually, he thought but decided he didn’t need to go into that level of detail.

Danielle pouted from his living room. Get the hell out, he thought, temper spiking. She slowly came out and then leaned on his doorframe.

“You’re interested,” she nodded toward his pants, and he resisted rolling his eyes. “I don’t bite,” her smile became sassy and inviting, “unless you want me to.” All I want is for you to leave, Trevor thought. Before he could answer, she scowled.

“Whatever, maybe what you really want is a threesome with that redhead and blondie,” she straightened and sauntered over to her door. “Count me in if you do,” she tossed over her shoulder. “We could be neighborly.”

“Thanks, but that’s not happening,” Trevor said and escaped to his apartment. As he shut his door, he became aware of how painful it was to hear himself say that. It’s not happening.

He turned slowly and looked at his apartment, really looked at it. This is what Adrian saw, he thought and hated himself for caring. It was close to sparse but not quite. The sole furnishings were a worn but solid plaid couch, a floor lamp from the 70’s, a banged-up coffee table and mismatched plastic chairs around a tiny round table he’d rescued from a remodeled diner and cut down to a regular table height before he welded the foot back on. There were two piles of books on the coffee table, one open and facedown.

Currently the table and chairs were covered with a plastic tarp with engine parts, tools and debris. There was nothing here that wasn’t at least a decade old and that wasn’t second hand. There was nothing here that he gave a shit about. Everything could disappear into the non-descript garage sale where it had come from and he wouldn’t miss it.

Where am I in here? he wondered and shook his head. What the fuck does that even mean? There’s plenty of me in here.

There was a long piece of contractor’s paper taped to the hallway wall with a couple of pencil stubs on strings between them so he could add things as he thought of them. In the middle of it was a sketch that was becoming exceedingly intricate and captivated him. Unfortunately, his inspiration for it was reflected in the working name he’d titled it. Trio. He looked away.

There was a column of metal whirling up from the floor tucked into the far corner. Something like a cross between a pillar of flame and the vortex of a hurricane, it was one of the pieces he couldn’t bear to part with. Trevor hated having it shoved in the corner but the floors were weak and it was heavy. It needed the support of the cross beams to make sure it didn’t go through the floor. Once in a while he rotated it and dreamed of having it displayed where he could walk around it.

There was a print out of one of Sypha’s digital landscapes that looked like something from an alien world hanging by the window. He’d loved it immediately for the sculptural landscape feature spearing out of the middle like some evil queen’s tower. It was one of the only things he’d bothered to frame.

The other was a color picture of his parents. He’d printed it from the Belmont International Gallery website before it had been taken down. He didn’t have any other photos of them, but the one from the newspaper. That one was laminated and tucked into the mirror in his bedroom.

When the house and gallery had first burned down, he’d reached out to his uncle. He had asked for a picture of them, preferably one where he was with them. He never heard anything back. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, he thought and wished he could finally believe it. Stepping around the gutted engine behind the couch and down the little jag that was too tiny and narrow to actually be considered a hallway, he stood at the door of his bedroom.

It really was little more than a mattress on the floor, a bureau with mismatched drawers and a closet with no door and piles tumbling out. The only thing of note was the contents of the two shelves he’d installed along the far wall. They weren’t pretty but they were solid as hell. They had to be. They held the maquettes for the sculptures he liked but couldn’t keep.

That was the one problem with working with his materials. Between size and weight, he couldn’t take them with him. But the tiny models that he created to work out the welds, the supports and the load-bearing needs, those he could.

They were still heavy but considerably more manageable. Besides, there were actually only five of them. Sometimes he would keep the others for a while and then let them go as he moved on to other things. These five were the only ones he wanted to keep. With a heavy sigh he went over and took ‘Today; Become’ off of the shelf. He heard Adrian’s words again: You can feel the strain to evolve, to move forward and shed the weight of this form. 

I wish I hadn’t been late to class, he thought. I wish I had heard what he said about this one.

No, you don’t.

Yes, I do.

Why? Why do you give a shit about it? Other people’s opinions about your art don’t matter.

It won’t stop you from making it but let’s not pretend you don’t care at all. Especially knowing he bought them.

Knowing Adrian bought ‘Today; Become’ was difficult. That piece held a great deal of himself in it. Parts that he was uncomfortable knowing that Adrian might have seen. He had actually almost kept the sculpture. It was small enough that he could have and there had been a great deal of meaning in it for him.

But Trevor was cut-throat about his art. Yes, he created to please himself and because it would not let him rest until it emerged, but he was very aware that without being able to sell his art there would be no other way to make a living at this.

Trevor had heard a quote somewhere that being a professional artist was like snipping bits of your skin off and selling it. You knew it would scab over and heal but it still hurt and there was still an intimate part of you out in the world. He wished he’d kept the quote; he’d felt immediate kinship to it. He put the maquette back and went to his closet to get a t-shirt.

Her scent hit him like a ton of bricks. A richness like the smell of fresh coffee, floral notes and sun-warmed earth mixed together. Sypha. I love you, he thought helplessly and wished he didn’t. Just like he wished that the tears that rolled down his face would go away.

Twenty minutes later, he left his apartment, torn jeans, undershirt with a plaid long sleeve tossed over it and a beanie tucked into his pocket, alongside his heavy leather gloves. It was almost summer and the days were warm, but there could still be a chill in the evenings. His chains rattled. He’d taken the crosses off to protect them from where he was going. 

The bus ride was almost forty minutes and two transfers and he still had to walk almost four blocks into the quiet industrial sector. He was headed for the scrap metal yard to work himself into exhaustion and hopefully find some items for ‘Trio.’ Trevor considered himself very, very lucky to know Striga, the owner of the local scrap metal and recycling plant. He’d hunted down the junkyard as soon as he’d come into town and had initially been dismayed to discover that there wasn’t the kind he was traditionally used to.

Instead, he’d located a highly organized, efficient, tidy operation in three separate locations. Striga herself had started with a basic recycling program when she’d returned from her fourth tour of military duty in the Middle East. While technically honorably discharged, she continued to disappear at times for assignments that she didn’t discuss.

When she wasn’t off doing God-knows-what, you could find the tall, muscular woman operating the compactor or wielding the forklift like an armored tank as she moved the bales of scrap metal or plastic. She was eye-catching and disciplined and Trevor had liked her the moment he met her. Although she was almost twice his age, he’d considered making a move until he’d met her partner and polar opposite two weeks later.

He’d been sorting by hand, looking for hollow metal tubes for an artwork, when the navy Mercedes had pulled into the yard. Trevor had paused to adjust his bandanna and stare. He liked cars; they were functional sculptures.

A tall, stunning woman dressed to the nines had parked, headed over to the car crusher and waved. Striga had immediately stopped the machine, hopped out and embraced her like she’d come just home from war. It’d been an obvious indicator they were together.

Through employee gossip, he’d found out that they’d been together for over a decade and were dedicated to each other. Content to stay friends with Striga, he came to realize it’d been for the best. Striga was honorable, orderly and dedicated but there was very little room in her life for fun or fantasy. There was no point in living without either in his opinion.

Morana was striking, but very cold to him. Not a surprise, considering she was the city treasurer and a politician. Trevor seemed to instinctively piss off anyone in authority and, though she hid it well, he didn't think she liked him. Fortunately, he barely ever saw her, and just lately, Striga either. Now that school was in full swing he had less time to hang out here.

Striga had given him a key to the scrap yard only, telling him he could come and go as he wished and even leaving a bin for him to store items he found while he was sorting. He would trade time or money to have a coworker with a truck drop them at his studio.

His arrangement with Striga was amazing. She got free labor for the hand-picking piles, which usually was the expensive part of owning a scrap metal business and he got virtually all of his materials free. The few times he did end up paying, it was her cost. She didn’t mark up for him.

He felt very lucky and didn’t know that Striga felt the same. She’d watched the cameras closely the first dozen times he’d let himself in in the middle of the night and then she never did again. Truthfully, he worked far more than the cost of the materials he took. Striga never would have agreed to this arrangement otherwise.

As he approached the chain link gate; he heard the growling and grinned. “Hey baby girl,” he called out and the growling broke into a low whine. Cyclops was waiting for him, a big, sweet pit bull mastiff with brown and grey mottling. Striga had told him that the dog was a rescue, having been abandoned by her owner when she’d lost an eye in a dog fight. Trevor’s introduction to her had been slow and with great respect for the animal’s space.

Cyclops was big and she was protective, but once she’d decided Trevor was her friend, she would follow him around all night and beg for cuddles. She’d firmly settled for him that he wanted a dog someday, but in the meantime, he loved spending time with her. “I brought you a treat!” he told her and withdrew the Milkbone.

Over the summer, after he won the Tepes scholarship, he’d splurged on new-to-him boots, welding mask and, after asking Striga if it was alright, a box of Milkbones for Cyclops. He carefully parceled them out for her and felt real pleasure every time she woofed her thanks.

Undoing the padlock, he withdrew the chain and opened the gate, bracing himself. Almost 200 pounds of happy pup launched herself at him, licking happily. “Whoa! Whoa! Alright, it’s been a while! I know!” He laughed and she sat back, giving him a soulful look.

“Here you go sweetie,” he held the treat out to her and she delicately nibbled it from his fingertips. Tousling her head, he noticed that the lights in the trailer at the back were on. That’s weird, he thought, and turned to re-lock the gate. He heard a high-pitched yapping and a door slam. He made a face. Striga must still be here, because Morana was. Worse, her little bitch of a dog was with her.

Trevor despised the tiny chihuahua with a passion. She looked darling and sweet but was positively vicious. The first time he’d met her, he was expecting a dog like Cyclops and had been careful not to make sudden moves or loud noises. It didn’t matter. Morana had told him the dog’s name was Lenore, put the animal down between them, and before she’d even turned around, Lenore was yapping and growling at him. Trevor hadn’t even moved yet.

When he did move, to back away, Lenore charged him and bit his jeans, tearing a good hole in them. Morana had been apologetic, but also suggested to him that he should be less threatening to small dogs. As though breathing had been the problem, he thought.

Since then, he just tried to avoid the animal. Every time he couldn’t avoid Lenore, he just didn’t move. He had accepted that his meager sewing skills would be needed after every encounter. Trevor had never hurt an animal in his life and never would, but sometimes he just wanted to punt that bitch to the moon.

“We should just avoid that whole shit show, hey girl?” he said to Cyclops and moved into the scrap metal yard with an unerring sense of direction. The picking pile he wanted was at the back but he made a quick detour to the industrial waste pile first. He was looking for piping for the piece he'd been working on the first time Sypha and he had made love in his studio.

It turned out it wasn’t going to be quick. Striga was there with the forklift and a spotlight. Trevor winced. It looked like one side of the pile had caved and tumbled into the pathway. Eying it, he could see that was exactly what had happened. It looked like someone had piled three industrial ovens at the bottom left, not thinking of the weight issue. What a dumbass, he thought and strode forward. He waved and Striga nodded to him before killing the engine.

“Fucking moron loaded this; can you believe it?” she said in her measured tones. Trevor shook his head.

“They should have known better,” he said, “New guy?” Striga grimaced.

“Yep, hired two newbies last month,” she said, tightening her ponytail and cracking her neck. “Let me tell you, no one has any honor anymore. Neither one had the decency to try to earn their pay. They just took the money and did shit like this.” She waved to the mess. “They are both gone now,” her smile was satisfied until she looked back and then she scowled. “And I’m still cleaning up their messes, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry Striga. I don’t understand why people are willing to sacrifice their honor for money. I never have, actually.” Trevor hadn’t meant to say anything except that he was sorry. Apparently, he was still raw from the argument. Never forget that when you lose your honor, you’ve lost everything, he re-played in his mind.

“Yeah, that makes sense to me, you’re just that kind of guy. Remember, if the art thing doesn’t work out, I have a place for you here. Everyone needs to make a living.” Striga gave him a respectful nod.

“It’s my intention to make it work but I appreciate it.” He grinned, “Thanks in no small part to your scrap, I gotta say. It’s been quite popular lately.”

Striga’s brows rose, “Sell some art, have you?”

“Actually I have, and I have a showing coming too. Down at the Ainav Gallery, next week.”

Striga frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know that place; where is it at?”

“In the Château plaza?" He said, "About three blocks west from City Hall?” Striga’s face cleared.

“Of course, there’s that antique auctioneer there, right?” Trevor nodded.

Striga whistled. “That place is upscale Trevor, nicely done.” She smiled at him, a small thing, but genuine. “Just think, when you hit it big, I’ll be able to put out a sign, ‘Trevor Belmont’s Art Supply Center.’

He laughed appreciative but rueful. “Yeah, no, I actually work under an alias.” He felt his lips firm. “Belmont isn’t a popular name in the art world.”

Striga nodded. She knew some of his history and knew it was a sore point for him. “What matters is your intentions, Trevor, not what they think.”

“What matters is my honor, Striga.” He said, voice low and tight as he thought of Adrian’s ‘it's just money,’ comment. “Intentions don’t mean anything if I can be bought.”

She looked at him curiously. “Trevor, that doesn’t make any sense. Intentions are the most important thing. Trevor Belmont can be bought, but it’s your intentions around the selling that matter.”

How could you think that of me? He wondered, anger and hurt rising. “Striga, how could you say that? I am not for sale and I cannot be bought! Intentions be damned!”

She cocked a brow and calmly said, “Correct me if I am wrong, but doesn’t the Ainav sell art? Your art, that people can buy?”

It was like she’d slapped him. “That’s different! That’s not my honor, that’s not my integrity, that’s—” My heart, my guts, my soul. It’s me, he thought. The quote came back again. It’s the pieces of me I cut off and sell.

“It’s you.” Striga said. “Don't feel bad about it!" She shrugged. "All of us are for sale; the question is what are our intentions in the transaction. I don’t want to get into it, but believe me, some of the shit I have done was with the best intentions. It didn’t change the fact that I sold parts of myself that I shouldn’t have, but it does let me sleep at night. At least in your case, your selling doesn’t damage your honor or your principles.”

For just a moment he could see her regret and then it was gone. “Anyway, I appreciate you wanting to distance yourself from money and what it usually means,” she crossed her arms, muscles rippling, “but it doesn’t have to be at odds with your honor. There are ways to use money honorably and morally.”

He didn’t want to hear this and he didn’t want to believe it. Worse, he didn’t want it to make as much sense as it did. I’ve lived the last five years hating money, hating what it took from me, resenting its hold over my family and my past, vowing to never be influenced by it or beholden to it, he thought. I’m such an idiot.

“Striga… I don’t know what to say. I just…” he gestured helplessly. “I feel like a fool.” He was so transparent; he felt like a screen door. 

She touched his shoulder briefly, obviously unsettled but trying to be considerate. “Look, ignore me, I don’t do advice or heart to hearts, that isn’t me. I’m probably saying it all wrong. It’s none of my business anyway; I just thought it was a funny thing for you to think. Especially because you are so honorable. In my experience, that usually comes from people who are being very intentional about how they live their lives.”

It was humbling but it also stung. How could I not see this? How did I not realize? “Do you see that a lot?” he asked without thinking, “People living intentional lives? How can you tell?”

Striga laughed, a rare thing but surprisingly enchanting. “No, actually. Most people live to survive. They react, they give into their feelings and they scurry around like the shit they do matters. That’s one of the reasons this place," she gestured to encompass the scrap yard, "is successful. People’s thoughtlessness. We make things with the intention of throwing it away when we don’t want it anymore. We are terribly entitled.”

She sneered and he saw the ugliness of her experience in it. “What’s worse is most of us only give lip service to caring about each other. We care when it’s convenient or not at all. You know how you tell? Someone who is kind when they don’t have to be. When it does nothing for them to be or even works against their own interests. When they hold all the power, all the money and all the privilege, and they still choose to be kind.”

Trevor nodded. The last thing he’d been recently was kind. To anyone. Striga fluttered, an uncharacteristically anxious movement from her. There was the faintest clench of her jaw and she cracked her knuckles. She’s embarrassed, he thought. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to have a bit of a revelation tonight.

“Thanks, Striga. I needed to hear this tonight. I have a lot to think about.” He put out his hand to her and she shook it.

“You’re a good guy Trevor, give yourself a damn break already,” she said, serious and still a little flustered. “And if you’re gonna stay for a while, check out the car parts pile, there is half of a ‘57 Belair in there that I am taking home to make a loveseat out of. She’s gorgeous and you’d appreciate her.”

“Striga!” Morana’s voice carried over the heaps. Striga stepped to the side and bellowed back that she was coming.

“Guess I will finish this up tomorrow, have a good night okay?” She clapped him on the shoulder and got back into the forklift. When she barreled past him, he waved and so did she. Someone who is kind when they don’t have to be. When it does nothing for them to be or even works against their own interests. When they hold all the power, all the money and all the privilege and they still choose to be kind.

He didn't want to think about it, but the thoughts came anyway. Adrian teaching the drawing class with excitement, patience and gentleness. Adrian explaining lighting to Nathan and Hugh with infinite patience. Adrian bringing his duffel across town because he asked him to. Adrian thanking him for kissing him. 

You assume a great deal and you don’t even know me.

I could say the same though! he thought defensively. Tepes assumed so much about me when we first met and then… and then... he treated you with respect in the drawing class, covered for you with Shaft, defended you to the FBI and then made sure you had a lawyer.

Because he thought I would go to prison otherwise! Because he thought that was where I belonged!

Really Trevor? He called a lawyer for you because he was trying to get you out of something you’d done? Or because he was concerned?

And either way, wasn't it still kind? Panic started to creep cold fingers up his belly and he argued with himself, sure that this couldn’t be as bad as it was starting to look. Yes, but I didn’t ask for help! So what if it was just kindness on his part?! I didn’t want that! He should have known! He needs to stop throwing his money at me, it’s humiliating.

Wait, it’s humiliating? Why is it humiliating?

I can’t reciprocate it. I don’t deserve it. I don’t want a hand out! He should know, he should…

How would he know?  Trevor's voice of reason asked. He doesn’t know that you are Chris Wise. He doesn’t know that you won the scholarship.

Adrian made the scholarship and made it possible to apply anonymously; he couldn't even gloat or seek out gratitude from whoever won it, his brain calmly supplied. There is no ego trip, no feel-good moment, nothing. There's nothing in it for him. For all he knows, you don’t like him. You’ve never told him different. He doesn’t know that you know his involvement in any of these things.

So when I told him that I can’t be bought, the only context he had was the lawyer. Trevor groaned. No wonder Adrian had been so confused. It’s just money. What had been Tepes intentions when he said that? 

Suddenly Sypha's intentions when she defended Adrian from Trevor looked completely different. Suddenly the whole scene in the hallway looked horribly cruel and unbelievably unreasonable. On Belmont's part. Damn it. He sat down on the edge of a fridge and looked at Cyclops, who put her head on his knee. “What the fuck have I been doing?” Trevor asked her and she whined at him.

--- 

I don't know why I did the things I did
I don't know why I said the things I said
Pride's like a knife, it can cut deep inside
Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes
I didn't really mean to hurt you
I didn't wanna see you go
I know I made you cry, but baby
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I'd take back those words that've hurt you
And you'd stay
If I could reach the stars
I'd give 'em all to you
Then you'd love me, love me
Like you used to do

"If I Could Turn Back Time," Cher

Notes:

I know this chapter was a long one but it was really important to me to show Trevor's thought process through this and to give you some context to why Striga's comments were going to hit so hard. I won't lie to you, I am SUPER EXCITED for where we are going for here. The end game is in sight but don't worry, there is plenty of thrills and twists before we get there! Thanks again for reading--I hope you are having a good time!
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Can you tell I hate Lenore? Is it obvious?
If Lenore as a dog made you laugh, do I have a treat for you!
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Because there is NEVER enough college AU-verse, I commissioned the incredible TheTurtlefromHell to create this gorgeous fic out of a tiny drabble I had on Discord.
Please check it out and enjoy the smutty-feels-fest!
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I caved and made a playlist for this fic of all the songs each chapter is named after. I will update it as I post:
AKA inject the 80's into my veins
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Pexels for all the photos, except for the people, who are from Pinterest. I was unable to find out 'Striga's' name but Trevor is Dylan Rieder.
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Last but certainly not least, special thanks to Striga for being such a hottie that she had to show up. Cuz ya know. HOT.

Chapter 15: Can't we give ourselves one more chance?

Summary:

“Please Professor Shaft, let’s continue this in the hallway,” Adrian said and Shaft stepped back. The TA closed the door and the class broke into a dull roar. Nathan didn’t even realize he’d stood until he spoke in a pitched hiss.

“Shut up! Shut up!” He waved his hands frantically and whispered, “I want to hear this! Shut up!” He strode to the door and listened. Dimly, he was aware of everyone else coming up behind him but thankfully they stayed silent.

Notes:

You have to see this INCREDIBLE, DROOL WORTHY ARTWORK I commissioned from SadBurrito of the trio. It will blow your damned mind!

 

 

Nov 15 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Nathan Graves loved his drawing class. He didn’t think he would and had put off the requirement until his second semester. Now he was really grateful that he had. He’d been told by a friend to try to get into Shaft’s class; not because of the teacher but because of the TA. At first, he’d been hesitant because the insinuation had been that Adrian taught the class himself.

Even though Tepes was semi-famous, Graves wasn’t sure that he wanted to drop $10k on a class taught by anyone without a Ph.D. He’d carefully watched the drop date, but let it breeze by. Adrian Tepes was amazing. He had a natural talent and a gift for explaining things. The TA was faithful at responding to emails, staying late, being available in his studio, listening to Nathan’s concerns and had even steered him to a Youtube channel that had step-by-step instructions he could follow when he was working at home.

Hugh and he both felt lucky to be in the class, especially given that they were having more trouble than expected with some of the concepts. Whatever, he thought, I’m not a drawer and with Adrian helping me, I will pass this. “Today we are looking at the human form,” Adrian said and Nathan felt his heart sink. Oh no, he thought. There was a collective murmur of unhappiness from the class and the TA smiled.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as you think. We are going to start with what you know—drapes and the movement of fabric! Then we will add the shape of the body underneath it. Deep breaths everyone, you got this!” The painter’s eyes were kind, and he paused. “Here is the fun part. I need you to split up into groups of 5-6 people. One person will be the model and the others will sketch. The one who models will be given extra time to complete this assignment, however, be aware that you will need to make extra time in your schedule outside of class. Take five minutes and find your groups please.”

Nathan looked over at Hugh, Annette, Tera and Iris. He grinned. It’d been a stroke of luck to have them all in the same class and the group had become fast friends. The girls were quick studies and fun to be around. Of course, they all had crushes on Adrian but that could only be expected. Nathan had to admit that for a hot minute, Tepes had made even him question his heterosexuality.

The group instinctively gravitated to each other and it was decided that Annette would be the model. She had previous history with drawing and this was her major, so she had an advantage over the rest of them. As they settled into the group, the door opened. “Belmont,” Hugh whispered at him and Tera’s grey eyes perked up.

The brunette woman thought Trevor’s moodiness was ‘totally intense’ and that he ‘oozed sexual energy.’ It had only gotten worse when she had snuck a peek at the sculptor’s board coming back from the bathroom at the second class. She declared his work amazing and had gushed about ‘bad boys’ when the freaking FBI came for Belmont. For Hugh’s part, he said that Trevor seemed to have gotten a bad rap; the man was nice, just reserved.

Nathan didn’t know what to think. At first, he hadn’t liked Belmont’s attitude toward Adrian but that had calmed down after the first class. Then when Shaft had said those completely inappropriate remarks about Trevor’s work, Nathan instinctively felt indignant on the sculptor's behalf.

Everyone could see Belmont working in class and he was obviously producing something. If Tera was to be believed, it was really good. Nathan trusted Adrian to make that call. He didn’t trust Shaft. It was almost like the professor believed that Belmont should automatically fail just because of his history.

Granted, it was bad history, but Nathan didn’t see how that was Trevor’s fault just because his family had been shady. Shit, the guy had been sixteen when everything went down. If I had to live with some of the dumbass things sixteen-year-old Hugh had done, well, it would suck, he thought.

The gang had talked about whether to say anything to Belmont about Shaft when he came back. If he came back. In the end, Hugh and Iris had argued that Adrian would tell Belmont and Adrian would protect him from Shaft.

The door swung wide and it wasn’t Belmont. It was Professor Shaft and Nathan instinctively looked to Adrian. He was the only one to look back immediately, and he caught the fear and the anxiety on Tepes face. Oh shit, he thought, and suddenly realized that maybe Adrian was just as much at the mercy of this asshole as Belmont was. That maybe Adrian’s kindness and confidence was a shield that he extended to protect his students.

The TA swallowed and settled his face. He looked at the class and said, “Please get started. Remember, look at the movement of the fabric. If you focus on that, I promise, you will find the body emerging under it. I will be back in a moment.”

“Belmont?” Shaft asked as Adrian stepped forward.

Nathan heard Adrian’s low, “Not today, but…”

“So he’s missing again? This would be the fourth class now!” Shaft snarled and Adrian shook his head.

Again, low and obviously attempting discretion, Adrian answered, “No, that’s not correct. He was removed from class against his will last time and—”

“He registered late, missed two classes right off the bat, got tangled up with the authorities and you have no idea where he is today! I see he is still registered though and I am telling you, this is an automatic fail!” Shaft’s voice carried into the classroom and Nathan looked around. Everyone was staring at the scene unfolding at the door.

“Please Professor Shaft, let’s continue this in the hallway,” Adrian said and Shaft stepped back. The TA closed the door and the class broke into a dull roar. Nathan didn’t even realize he’d stood until he spoke in a pitched hiss.

Shut up! Shut up!” He waved his hands frantically and whispered, “I want to hear this! Shut up!” He strode to the door and listened. Dimly, he was aware of everyone else coming up behind him but thankfully they stayed silent.

“No, I am sorry, but I respectfully disagree. I cannot count those absences against him. He submitted the assignment that was worked on for those two classes and you and I both know that the first class is just an adjustment class anyway. At best, he missed—” Adrian’s voice was soft but there was a note of unhappiness in it that clawed into the soft insides of Nathan’s belly. This is not good, the student thought.

“Tepes, you are on incredibly thin ice here.” Professor Shaft sounded pissed. “Are you telling me that you are willing to throw yourself on this sword for Trevor Belmont? Have you thought about this? Why would you do that?!” Nathan didn’t have to strain to hear him, his voice carried and he made no attempt at masking his words.

“What you fail to understand sir, is that this is not about Trevor Belmont for me.” There was a plea in the words but also an assuredness that made Nathan want to cheer. “I know it is for you, but for me, this is about fair standards and practices applied to all students, regardless of personal feeling or,” the TA paused, “personal vendettas.” Holy shit, Nathan thought alarmed, this is bad. This is worse than I thought.

“Fucking A,” Iris whispered at Nathan’s elbow, “Tepes has balls.” He nodded and listened at Shaft’s heavy breathing.

“Think what you want about this 'personal vendetta.' But this is the obvious conclusion of all the presented facts. One: Belmont comes from a line of forgers; we cannot trust anything he submits to be his own work,” Adrian started to protest and Shaft’s voice rose. “Two: Four absences is half of the classes thus far and completely inexcusable. You have one assignment from Belmont? Today was supposed to make two. Where is the other one?” Adrian was silent, but Nathan could hear a tiny sound of distress.

“Three: He is setting a precedence of disruption in the class that is completely unacceptable and you are tolerating it. You are encouraging it by excusing his behavior!” Shaft seemed to catch himself on the last sentence and lowered his voice.

“Now, here is what you will do." Shaft sounded coldly certain. "You will send him an email letting him know he can come pick up his assignment and he will drop the class. I will even speak to the department about giving him a partial refund so that he doesn’t bitch about it. But he will not continue in this class and he will not pass it. Am I clear?”

“That is fucking wrong,” Hugh growled out and there were murmurs of agreement behind Nathan. Graves held up his hand in a shushing motion and the noise ceased immediately. What will you do Adrian? Nathan thought and already knew that what the TA did would determine what Nathan would do. There was a deep, sad breath from Adrian and the blonde spoke.

“I am sorry to refuse you, but I must. I cannot do that.” Shaft sounded like a tea kettle whistling when it was ready. Adrian continued. “Again, I cannot help but feel that this is malicious. I am willing to believe that you cannot see that, but I am asking you to reconsider your emotions on the matter.”

“Never,” Shaft exploded, close to a yell before he dialled it back, “Belmont is not passing this fucking class!”

Adrian sounded exhausted and unbelievably forlorn. “We disagree on the details of Belmont’s attendance, his work and his mark in the class. I am afraid that if you want to have that email sent, you will have to do it yourself. I might have a solution however, that would remove both of our opinions from the issue. I have spoken to Grant Danasty and he would be willing to grade—”

“Fuck that!” Shaft said and made a noise of contempt and disgust. “You are finished Tepes. You will never TA again and I will—” Nathan stepped back and turned to the class. The looks of shock, anger, disbelief and uncertainty were well matched to his. Strike while the outrage is hot, he thought and spoke.

“Who here likes Adrian and wants him to stay as our teacher?” All the hands went up. “Who here is willing to go with me, right now, to the department and make a formal compliant about Shaft’s treatment of Belmont and Tepes? Even if you don’t care about Belmont, that could be you out there just because Shaft doesn't like you. If we all do it, he can’t blanket fail the class because the school can’t allow that. It would be a giant lawsuit.” Students were nodding with excitement and looking around.

Iris was grinning, and Annette whispered fiercely, “Fight the motherfucking power, Nate!”

“Let’s fucking do this then, follow me.” Nathan opened the door.

-----

When Trevor woke up, bleary and pissed, he knew today was going to suck. He’d stayed late at the scrap yard, far later than he intended and worked until his back screamed alongside his mind. As a result, his body felt like an old man and was moving like it too. His brain was wrapped in bubble wrap and bouncing around like a cork in a hurricane. The first thing he thought of was Adrian and Sypha and he groaned and tried to think of anything else.

He crept to his knees and leaned against the wall. Several minutes went by as he stared at the sun moving across the maquettes. Right about the time he thought his knees had probably locked, he realized that the sun shouldn’t be that low on the wall. He jerked and immediately regretted everything. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled as he toppled back onto the mattress and frantically patted for his phone.

When the screen lit up, he loosed a stream of swears that he was fairly certain had the neighbors thinking he was either fending off a demon, or having the best sex of his life. He was late for Adrian’s class. And by late, it had been over for two hours and counting. I am the shittiest person, Trevor thought and repeatedly bashed his head into the mattress.

A boiling hot shower, four no-name brand Tylenol, some careful stretches and Trevor was moving with only a slight limp. Dragging his cargo pants on he grabbed the nearest t-shirt and the ancient Joan Jett logo reminded him which way the front was. He took a moment to add his crosses back onto his chains and hooked them up to his belt. Fingers lingering on the wooden one the size of his palm, he shook the sad feeling off.

He darted to the kitchen and swore. He needed to go grocery shopping and had meant to go yesterday before the shit storm with Adrian and Sypha. Eyeing his options, he cut the mold off the bread, scraped at the already scoured peanut butter jar and sniffed the half-finished canned fruit in the fridge. It seemed safe. He bolted it down over the sink and stuffed the almost-bare slice into his mouth.

Grabbing the drawing that was due off of the corner of his table, he carefully rolled it, banded it and put it in his duffel. Seeing the increasingly sadly rumpled bag of Sunchips made him grit his teeth. Slinging the straps over his shoulders, he headed down the stairs. It wasn’t until he hit the street that he remembered he hadn’t brushed his hair. “Come on Belmont, get it together!” He raked his fingers through his hair and ran after the bus.

It was late afternoon when he arrived at campus. Dashing off the bus he started toward the art building. Adrian was a junior and had a studio in the building somewhere. He started to lope down the pathway between the Digital building and the Soft Fashion department. “Belmont! Way to fight the man!” a man called to him and Trevor slowed to look back. Someone he didn’t know waved enthusiastically and Trevor automatically waved back.

What the fuck? he wondered and started up again. “Way to go Belmont!” said a curvy female as he passed her and it hit him like an errant golf cart manned by a drunk caddie. Issac and Godbrand, he thought and groaned. Well, it could be worse.

He would take looking like a bad ass over being perceived as a criminal. Trevor snickered. After all, Godbrand apologizing to him had made him feel like his dick was 10 feet long. His brain rudely interrupted his glee. And who do we thank for that? Oh, that’s right, I didn’t thank him; I bit his head off. I need to apologize. Trevor made a face. He hated apologies.

It’ll be worth it though. Maybe he’ll kiss you. Ooooh, maybe you could give him an apology blo—

“It was a long time coming, Belmont, thanks from all of us!” An older man held the door for him and gave him a huge grin.

“You’re welcome?” Trevor said, completely confused.

“Just wish it’d been last year but at least it happened!” The man skipped down the stairs and Trevor stared at him until the door shut. I wasn’t here last year, Trevor thought and shook it off. He could figure it out later. In the meantime, he needed to drop this assignment off before the end of office hours.

He approached a person at random and asked where the painters’ studios were. He was directed to the west wing and took the back stairs. When he came out on the fourth floor he paused. Why didn’t I think to ask which studio? Trevor thought, looking at the long line of doors in dismay.

The sculpture studio had eleven offices total and they taped the names up on doors. Apparently, the painting and drawing department was too good for that.

Thanks to the syllabus, he knew it was “the third one from the big portrait” but quickly realized that was not a great description. He walked slowly down the corridor, hearing music and voices from some of the rooms. No one had their doors open but as someone who didn’t like interruptions, Trevor could understand that.

So beautiful, he thought, as he went past Botticelli’s Venus taped into the window of the door. Each door had a big window in it and everyone had covered theirs with something. He had to grin at the giant Calvin and Hobbes poster in the next one. Whoever that was, he approved. Third from the big portrait.

There were four possibilities and he dismissed the first one. The art on that door was Warhol and instinctively Trevor knew it wasn’t Adrian. The others though... he looked again.

Da Vinci was classic, but the Renaissance man wasn’t his best and seemed almost cliché. The Bruges was beautiful but fairly religious... There was a delicate collage of Kahlo, Raphael, and Bernini that seemed likely, but he was thrown by the Amano work. Adrian didn’t seem like a video gamer but what did he know?

Sypha, he thought suddenly, as it clicked. He grinned. She liked Final Fantasy. That’s where the painter would have seen it. The delicate, pretty figures seemed just like him. Trevor approached the door and heard voices.

Ah shit, he thought when he heard Adrian’s low laugh, he's here. Trevor stepped to the side of the door, quietly set his duffel down and pulled out his drawing. He debated knocking but didn’t wasn’t sure how he could begin to apologize. What he would say? Hey sorry I acted like a grade-A dick after a mind-blowing kiss and then skipped out on class because I stayed up stupid late having all the angst and feels like an emo high schooler.

Yeah, no thanks.

Plus, he had no idea who was in there with him. With the door shut. Making him laugh in that throaty, erotic, hot honey way. Jealousy is stupid and pointless, Trevor told himself and almost believed it. Trevor pulled out the chips too. They would get to Tepes if he had to carrier pigeon that shit to him.

He eyed the opening under the door. It was actually pretty big, almost a full inch but his work was rolled. He needed to flatten it out and slide it under. Was there anything in the way of the door? he wondered. For that matter, was there a way to only slide it partially in so the TA wouldn’t immediately come to the door? It’s not that I want to run away, it’s more like I want to…escape.

Looking around, Trevor didn’t see anyone so he pushed his duffel aside, got on his belly and looked under the door. His eyes had to adjust to the brilliant afternoon sun streaming into the room. There was no question this was Adrian’s space. It was neat and tidy, smelled strongly of oils and paint thinner and quiet artsy music played out of a stereo nestled between two vines of something purple and fuzzy.

There was a clothesline with hooks and canvases in various states of progress hanging up. He couldn’t see them but got the vague impression of color and bodies. Under it was a small desk with a laptop currently open and running with a stack of portfolios beside it. He’s grading, Trevor thought.

There seemed to be a chair or a couch beside the door, he could just see the brown edge. But beyond that, there was Adrian’s easel. Or more accurately there was his soul.

Unlike the rest of the space, there was a certain amount of chaos here. Brushes in cans, rags in the floor, splatters and crumpled paper. There was still an order and restraint to it and Trevor would bet money that Adrian carefully cleaned up every time.

There were three easels set up, all supporting a large, wide canvas currently on its side. It was in the beginning of being and was already somewhat sketched in but he couldn't quite make it out. The background was dark and somehow liquid-y, as though looking into water. I’ve never seen his work on such a large scale, he thought. It looked like a pair of hands cupping a head but there was something in the hands and in the head.

He strained to make it out and then heard a quietly appreciative murmur from almost right beside the door. “Simply gorgeous. You are so talented. This right here? Beyond sexy.” It was a man’s voice; someone he didn’t recognize.

Trevor felt an unhealthy surge of possessive adrenaline. Exactly what was sexy?

Unhelpfully, his brain answered: the softness of his hair, the yield of his lips, that helpless grind of his hips, the little noises he makes, the taste of his mouth, the…

“I wish I could take credit for that, but it's just inherent in this case.” There was a longing in Adrian’s voice and Trevor’s blood pressure rose.

Exactly what is inherent?! His temper asked. Cool it Trevor, he’s not your boyfriend, you don’t have the right to be angry. Damn it we kissed yesterday, he wanted me, I…

A breathy sigh. “Can I be honest here?”

There was a smile in Adrian's murmured, “Yes." Trevor’s whole body tensed.

The man’s voice was filled with desire, “I would fuck that face, right here, right now.”

--- 

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about
Watching some good friends screaming
"Let me out"
Tomorrow gets me higher
Pressure on people, people on streets
Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a fence, but it don't work
Keep coming up with love
But it's so slashed and torn
Why? Love
Insanity laughs, under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love that one more chance?

-"Under Pressure," Queen & David Bowie

Notes:

I'm curious what you think is going on in the studio? Let me know <3
---
Window photo from Octoptimist via Pexals, 'Trevor' model is Tony Mahfud, 'Adrian' model Erik Andersson.

Chapter 16: Can you get enough of me?

Summary:

“It’s alright,” Trevor said, touching the fading red mark on Tepes’ cheek and already regretting his rash reaction. “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

Those golden depths ignited and Adrian bent down to him, hovering inches above his lips. “Tell me you don’t hate me,” Tepes whispered. “I need to believe it.” Shock was hugely tangible for Trevor and he was quickly swamped with regret.

I fucked this up so bad, Trevor thought. “I don’t hate you,” he said sincerely.

Notes:

Nov 16 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Trevor was so furious his whole body tingled. He’d be damned if he wouldn’t interrupt this cozy little session before Adrian could get on his knees. Like a tidal wave, the vision he'd had in the drawing room of the painter doing just that for him, slammed into his mind and his heart ached.

Adrian laughed again, pleased and rueful; it was like a wet lick up Trevor’s throat. The painter said, “Honestly, I think that is normal for everyone who sees him. Our natural state of being you might say. It’s his face. Always intense, always smoldering. I love that look too, but I don’t think it will fit with the forest and the softness of the atmosphere.”

Wait, they aren’t talking about something between them but something they feel for someone else! His elated relief was tempered with curiosity and a touch of jealousy. This is an ugly reality for you Belmont, he told himself, jealous when you have no right to be. Trevor found that telling himself that did nothing to lesson it. His feelings for Adrian ran too deep and the situation was too uncertain right now.

There was the sound of papers rustling and suddenly Adrian stepped into view. Graceful, exuberant and focused, the painter had been alarmingly close to Trevor. He went over to the canvas wearing paint spattered black slacks, a plain black apron and a red long-sleeved shirt. His hair was caught up in a bun, soft tresses floating carelessly. Red did beautiful things to that blonde hair and gave him a faint flush, or maybe that was just the situation.

The desire that slammed Trevor wasn’t unexpected but the soft longing was. He is wearing color, Trevor thought. What does that mean?

“Look at the gentleness of her hands here,” the TA gestured to the inner curve of the fingertips on the canvas resting on the easels, “and look at the sketch titled, ‘Affection.’ I think it will look like he is leaning into her. It would be romantic and suggest the bond.”

There was the sound of papers shuffling again, and then the other man’s voice, “I don’t see one titled that?”

Adrian looked startled and paced back over. For a split-second Trevor thought he was going to open the door and started to inch slowly away. More papers rustled and then Adrian said, “Oops, we must have left it in your studio, one second!”

Oh shit, Trevor thought and started to scramble back. It was too late. The door swung open and when Trevor looked up the blonde was still turned toward the room but moving forward. “Just stay put I will—ah!

Adrian plowed right into Trevor, who’d only managed to get onto all fours at that point. To save the painter from doing a faceplant he had to do a bizarre and uncomfortable twist that had his back bellowing in anger.

Adrian looked up, confusion, then dawning awareness and finally rising anger. “What the hell?! Why would you—? You! You deliberately tripped me! Seriously? Unbelievable!”

“Wait, I didn’t—” Trevor began and thought the TA would get up. The brunette started to release him, forgetting about Adrian’s temper. The temper that got him into trouble the first time they met. The temper that resulted in the two of them tussling on the floor in the cafeteria.

So when the painter reared back, Trevor wasn’t remotely defending himself. He thought Tepes was just getting up. Adrian’s fist had double the impact and he was strong.

“Motherfucker!” Trevor wheezed and saw red. “What the fuck is your problem?! It was an—“ He managed to block Adrian’s second fist with his elbow and swung back. At the last second he remembered he didn’t want to hurt Tepes. His punch became an open-handed slap against the side of the painter’s face.

Outrage bloomed on Adrian’s face and he stared down at Trevor. “Did you just...? Did you just SLAP ME?!” His look was so incredibly insulted that Trevor snickered. Adrian looked like a duchess who just discovered someone shit the bed.

“If you’re gonna act like a child...” Trevor began in his best lecturing voice and Adrian shifted to pin Trevor’s shoulder under an elbow and the other arm with his hand. It left him wide open to the slap the painter delivered to the side of his head and Trevor’s ears rang.

Adrian laughed smugly and said, “Not so funny now, is it?! Ha!” Trevor couldn’t bring his hand up to reach Adrian’s face so he settled for slapping the closest thing. The minute his hand connected to Adrian’s ass cheek with a audible smack, they both blinked.

Trevor didn’t imagine the sudden tense and then full body, shuddering melt from Adrian. Holy shit, he liked that, the sculptor thought, instantly turned on. It didn’t help that Trevor had liked it too and his own body immediately reacted to Adrian’s response.

There was the sound of a throat clearing above them. “I think I’m gonna go now, but you two have a good time.”

Long legs stepped over them. Trevor caught a backwards glance and grin from a tall, slender brunette as he quietly shut the door to his studio. Calvin and Hobbes, Trevor thought appreciatively.

Adrian was staring at him, lips parted and breath quick. He hadn’t moved from his straddle of Trevor’s belly and it was a front row seat to the semi-aroused state the painter was in.

“You know,” Trevor said with seductive amusement, trying not to drool from the view, “I’m totally up for spanking. You could call me Daddy if you want.”

Adrian made a disgusted noise and tried to wiggle off. “Wait, that’s—“ Trevor said but it was too late. The blonde slid his ass over Trevor’s extremely hard arousal. The sculptor hissed and bucked into the painter’s ass. “Adrian,” he whined and looked up at the TA.

Desire, confusion, anger, helplessness and uncertainty warred with each other in the blonde’s eyes. Trevor remembered his impression of limited experience from their kiss. “It’s alright,” Trevor said, touching the fading red mark on Tepes’ cheek and already regretting his rash reaction. “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

Those golden depths ignited and Adrian bent down to him, hovering inches above his lips. “Tell me you don’t hate me,” Tepes whispered. “I need to believe it.” Shock was hugely tangible for Trevor and he was quickly swamped with regret.

I fucked this up so bad, Trevor thought. “I don’t hate you,” he said sincerely. “I never have and I’m sorry I—” and Adrian was kissing him. Trevor groaned into that eager mouth. Teeth scraped over his lips and clinked against his, as the painter’s tongue licked his with unrestrained passion.

Rationally, he knew that the unpracticed nature of Adrian’s kiss shouldn’t be as mind-meldingly hot as it was. However, knowing that he was among a select few to taste that cool, quiet mouth made it that much more blistering.

There was something warming under that calm tranquility and Trevor mused it was Adrian’s enthusiasm manifesting itself and begging for plunder. The brunette wrapped his arms around Adrian and kissed him back, winding his fingers into those soft, fragrant tresses. Adrian murmured happily and Trevor gave a little tug. The answering gasp was like a flowing river under the ice of his composure and the spring thaw was coming.

He slid his other hand up to cup Adrian’s ass and squeezed gently. Definitely a VW trunk, he thought, and sexy as fuck. The door to the back stairway opened. Trevor registered it but didn’t readily interpret its meaning. Legs in patterned tights and combat boots tiptoed around them and then a whispered, “Wow, that is hot,” made Adrian’s head jerk up.

The painter immediately flushed crimson and scrambled back. Trevor bit back an oath. He hated interruptions.

“Ugh, sorry Sara, Julie,” Tepes said, looking at the floor.

“Don’t be! I am not; believe me!” the one woman said and the other looked down at Belmont.

“You lucky son of a bitch,” she said cheerfully and Trevor grinned. He was feeling very lucky right now. And if you hadn’t come along, maybe even luckier, he thought.

Adrian nodded to them both and they kept moving with a decidedly happy skip to their step. “Um, maybe we should get out of the hallway,” Tepes said and stood. He offered a hand to Trevor, who took it and got up. When Adrian went to let go though, Trevor didn’t. Not this time, he thought, this time, I get it right. Awareness flooded Tepes face and Trevor took a deep breath.

---

Adrian couldn’t believe it. The last 48 hours had been an upheaval like no other. He was so turned around that he couldn’t untwist himself. The kiss with Trevor, the sculptor’s hideously cruel rejection, weeping so hard the blonde had felt like he had vomited his guts out, only to have them burn with desire from the revelation with Sypha, their wonderfully terrifying conversation and their agreement on what might happen going forward.

Adrian had laid in bed half the night, torn between trying not to get his hopes up and imagining all the possibilities. It should not have been a surprise to him that he woke up hard as hell from a scorching dream of Sypha riding his cock while Trevor thrust into his mouth. The sexual energy had tumbled through his morning yoga. Fully aroused yoga, he thought again with chagrin. It had lasted all the way through his practice, his breakfast smoothie and half his shower.

It finally led to an intense orgasm under the pounding water that ended with him whispering their names and feeling slightly embarrassed but still low-key hot. Adrian felt his blush rise remembering. His dread and excitement at seeing Belmont. The annoyance and then worry when he failed to show.

Then the horror of knowing what was coming, the moment Shaft opened the door. His utter shock when Nathan Graves and the entire class exited the drawing room, filed past him and the professor and headed down the stairs.

Neither he nor Shaft had known what was going on and after establishing that to each other, they had followed. His shock could not have been greater to see his entire class packed into the art department office and hear Nathan’s ringing tones demanding that he speak to the department head right now. Shaft grabbed Adrian’s arm and asked in a hissed whisper, just what the fuck was going on? The TA had no answer for him.

The department head affectionately known as the Captain because of his propensity for wearing a sailor’s cap and jacket had emerged from his office and Nathan started speaking. Adrian had not been able to keep his jaw from hanging open. Then the tears had come and he’d quietly sat down in one of the waiting chairs and listened to his entire class do the right thing.

When he looked up, Shaft was gone. The co-chair of the department, Charlotte Aulin, was standing just inside the door and looking at him. Catching his eye, she motioned to him to follow her. More than anything, Tepes didn’t want to leave. He wanted to hear everything but he knew she was right and it wasn’t appropriate for him to be here.

When Charlotte closed the door to her office, it all came out in swift disclosure. The teaching alone without guidance or assistance, his insane office hours, being the sole contact for emails and for extra help when the students needed it, the rubber-stamped grading, his fear of Shaft and his love of TA-ing.

She’d been incredibly supportive and lovely, repeatedly telling him that teaching assistant positions should never be so stressful or so arduous. When Aulin apologized to him, he calmed quickly. Embarrassed, as he was never one for public emotional scenes, he quickly realized what he’d done.

If he’d had any idea how wretchedly hopeful he had looked—pale, forlorn, delicate figure with liquid golden eyes, when he begged her not to take his class away from him—he would have felt badly. As it was, there was no manipulation or guile in his intention and his integrity struck her as deep and true.

She’d told him that it was obvious that some things were going to have to change, but she would do her best to ensure that he remained with that class. Aulin was unexpectedly frank with him and told him that it was highly likely he would remain as the TA, simply because all the professors had a full load this semester. She couldn’t promise him anything of course and didn’t want to lead him on, but the department was down two maternity leaves and a sabbatical right now.

The whole disclosure was the span of fifteen minutes and when they stepped back out of her office, they could see that his class was still in the foyer of the art department. The secretary was passing out forms, which Adrian could only guess were grievance forms and the Captain was nodding seriously.

Charlotte suggested that that class should be cancelled for today and that she should be with him when he told the students. She walked him back to the classroom to wait for the students return, asking him about how his classes were going.

At the top of the stairs, they heard a crash from the drawing room and saw the concerned crowd standing outside the closed door. Charlotte made it to the door first, only because Adrian knew what was happening. He understood Shaft better than most. When the door opened, the collective gasp was enough for Tepes. He didn’t even have to look.

Later, when he saw the room, the TA understood that Shaft had experienced some kind of break with reality. He was grateful it was taken out on the room and no one else. Adrian had shuddered to think what might have happened if he’d been there alone, or worse, if Trevor had been. The room looked like a riot had taken place; supplies strewn, easels broken, student art destroyed. The sheer, malicious destruction was unbelievable.

Adrian almost felt sorry for him, almost felt badly, and then he remembered his uneasy feeling that Shaft might have done what he tried to do to Belmont, to someone else. That he might have destroyed someone else’s hopes and dreams before.

He didn’t smirk when security took the professor out. He didn’t join in the applause of the crowd or the whoops and cheers. Instead, he sent a tiny meditation of thanks into the cosmos that the festering wound of the professor’s presence was removed from the campus. Removed from his life. Removed from Belmont's. Likely permanently. Tenured professor or not, this was well beyond something Shaft could come back from.

There was no returning to the classroom that day; it was a crime scene that belonged to the police now. Returning to the office with the co-chair, they found that the class had been moved to a nearby empty room and Adrian slipped into the back.

The Captain was in the middle of explaining how grievances worked. He was assuring the students that the department could and would protect them from retribution from Shaft, including having their work graded by someone else. Iris was insisting that it be Tepes and the TA’s heart felt like it might burst.

Adrian watched the co-chair come up to the Captain and whispered in his ear. The Captain jerked, blanched and shook his head. When he looked at Adrian, Tepes came forward. He wasn’t sure if he should speak or not, but at this point he had no idea if he would ever see this amazing group in the classroom ever again. At the very least, the TA wanted to comfort them and he wanted to say thank you.

He didn’t look over to see the Captain and Charlotte watching him as he spoke to his class. It was too bad really, because it would have settled much of his concerns about his worth to the department and what the fall out of his confession would be. When the two would discuss it later, they agreed that he was brilliant and poised given everything that he’d been through that day.

Calm, well-spoken, and diplomatic while remaining unbelievably warm and kind, he’d broken the news about the classroom destruction with minimal fuss and the perfect pitch of sympathy. He promised nothing about how it would play out, but listened with attentive compassion. When he had thanked the class for reporting Shaft, there was no bad mouthing the department or the professor, but rather noting how important integrity and accountability was in every power structure and system of governance.

He’d ended with a promise to the class that the art department would take not only their concerns seriously, but that they took the hideous disrespect to the student's work and private property very seriously. Tepes had reminded them of the student counselling program on campus and urged them to take care of themselves in the aftermath of today.

The Captain didn’t even try to add anything beyond asking that the students provide an itemized list of what was in the classroom that might have been destroyed. He explained that they needed to provide it to the police and to the insurance company so they could replace the items as quickly as possible. He also added that the department would be working with Adrian closely to ensure that this disgraceful incident didn’t impact any grading related to destroyed work.

The co-chair had told Tepes he could leave, but asked him to stay on campus until the police were done as he might be needed for a statement. The moment he’d gotten to the fourth floor he’d knocked on Grant’s door and thanked his lucky stars that the other TA was there.

Grant was incredulous, then concerned and ultimately cackling over the story. His friend told Adrian he was gonna be fucking famous. No one had wanted to work with Shaft and hated taking classes from him. Grant had previously confessed that even the other professors despised him and avoided working with the man whenever possible.

As always, Danasty was a balm of hilarity and support to Adrian and he felt considerably better after talking to him. Grant asked him about one of the pieces the painter was working on for their class together and they’d gone back to Adrian’s studio. They’d literally just picked up his sketches when the police called and asked if they could meet him. When they arrived, Grant was looking through the drawings appreciatively and Adrian told him to just take them back to his studio.

By the time Trevor was kneeling in the hallway, the police had been gone for twenty minutes, Grant had come back with the sketches and was positively entranced with them. Tepes couldn’t blame him. Adrian had sketched Belmont from memory but was proud to say he’d captured him very well, especially the look he’d had right before Trevor had kissed him. That was the portrait that Grant had sighed and fluttered over, before declaring he wanted to fuck his face.

Adrian had to agree. He understood the sentiment, even as he felt the twinge of irritation. If anyone was fucking that face, he didn’t want to know. Well, unless it was Sypha. Then he definitely wanted to know. Maybe watch too. He blushed harder, grateful that no one could read his thoughts.

He’d been completely unprepared for Belmont being in the hallway and had been mortified that Trevor might have heard him talking with Grant. Might have heard them talk about how devastatingly attractive the sculptor was. Might have heard Adrian talk about his need to paint Trevor, so fierce it was fast becoming an obsession. The piece he was working on for his midterm was going to be Trevor and Sypha and had been rattling around in his head for over a week now.

On top of his humiliation, the hurt from yesterday had tumbled into him, fresh, sharp and painful. It mingled with his relief that Belmont was alright and warred with his irritation that Trevor had clearly been in the midst of attempting to slide his work under the door and avoid him.

The slap had been insulting but also ignited something inside Tepes. I don’t think I want to admit how hot that whole thing was, he thought again and resisted a shiver. But when he said he didn’t hate me, that was all I needed to know. Sypha had told him that he needed to ask that question, straight up. To stop letting it torment him and just know. She couldn’t tell him herself and he understood and respected that, but she’d been right. He needed to hear it.

Trevor was looking at him with that intense gaze and Adrian’s lips still tingled from the kiss. He couldn’t believe he’d been basically making out with Belmont in the hallway at school. Thank God it was just Sara and Julie, they were friends and sweethearts. They wouldn’t gossip about it. What was happening to him? He never did things like this! His eyes dropped to those lips again and he thought, Whatever is happening, I wish it would happen again.

Trevor’s lips moved and the world erupted with possibility. “I’m sorry you thought I hate you. I don’t. What I feel is complicated and I am not great at talking about stuff like that. The things I said yesterday were unfair and uncalled for. I blew it and I know it. I keep fucking up with you and I hate it. I want a chance to talk, a chance to… get it right.”

Adrian’s eyes flew to his and he thought his smile might pop his eyes out. “I want that too; I want to know you. I want to understand.” He took a risk, “I really like you. A lot.”

Trevor grinned, “Oh good, I thought that you just made out with all the people you found on the floor.”

Adrian blushed and gave him a look. Belmont was clearly teasing and stroked a thumb over his cheek in a small, soothing motion. Grant’s door cracked open and they both jerked to look at him. He looked embarrassed but also really happy.

“Listen, guys, I am dying here because ya’ll are cute as fuck,” he sighed sadly, “although now I know I have no chance with Belmont.” Trevor’s brow raised in amusement, “But you should know that literally everyone on the floor can hear you. Can I suggest that you might want to go back to the nearest apartment? For complete privacy?”

I am going to die of humiliation, Adrian thought but he nodded. At least Grant didn’t let them get too far. The door next to Grant’s opened and a blonde man’s head popped out. “Damn it Grant, some of us were enjoying the show. Spoilsport!” Adrian took Trevor’s hand and tugged him into his studio as Grant and John argued good-naturedly. Tepes quietly shut the door and turned to Trevor.

“He’s right, we have no privacy here.” Adrian took a breath. “Would you please come home with me? I want to continue this conv—"

Trevor pushed him up against the door and took his mouth in a searing, urgent kiss. Quick, clever hands snaked behind him and undid Adrian's apron. The moment that the apron was loose, Trevor’s hands made their way under his shirt and up his torso. The blonde was quaking, gasping, overwhelmed. The sculptor’s hands were hot, firm bliss with exploding stars under each finger tip.

“Oh, we’ll continue, believe me,” Trevor muttered into his mouth, “you have no idea. I cannot breathe but to want you.”

Adrian just melted. There was no other response to such an irresistible need, especially when he understood it so well. “Trevor,” he whispered into the sculptor’s mouth and Belmont growled.

“And when you say my name like that, I want to do everything to you. I want to give you everything,” the brunette said and lifted the apron over his head. He dropped it on the floor beside them and nuzzled in to taste Adrian’s neck. Oh my God, the TA thought and arched into Trevor.

“You like that, don’t you?” The question came in a low, sensuous tone and Trevor scraped his teeth over Adrian’s jugular. The painter’s tremble and defenseless thrust was completely involuntary and felt utterly right. He found his voice, as he laced his fingers through Trevor’s hair, “Yes, it’s—” The stubble from Belmont’s face worked its way to the hollow in his collarbone and Adrian’s breath hitched.

“It’s what?” Trevor asked, practically purring when Adrian whined.

I can’t.

I can.

This is incredible.

I’m in my studio.

I just want to let him inside.

If you moan like that, everyone will hear you.

I just need to touch.

Please taste me.

The thoughts were jumbled and incoherent and words wouldn’t come. They were lost forever when Belmont’s hands found his nipples. Adrian moaned and jerked the sculptor’s hair hard. Adrian opened his mouth to apologize but Trevor was already speaking.

“That’s it,” Trevor grated through clenched teeth and hefted Adrian up against him. Holy fuck he is strong, Adrian thought, concurrently alarmed and extremely aroused. The painter hasn’t been picked up since he was twelve and fell off the ladder in the library. His father had been there instantly and carried him to the sofa. This was nothing like that. This was urgent dominance and desperate need.

Trevor turned and eased him down onto the couch, moving over him with sure hands. It wasn’t until the crinkle of the papers on the fabric that Adrian realized where he was. Trevor pushed his shirt up and licked up his scar. His scar was insanely sensitive and it was like Belmont had kissed his cock.

“Yes, oh my god, I just—!” and that was when he saw Trevor’s face. His heart tripped and he looked down.

--- 

I was made for loving you, baby
You were made for loving me
And I can't get enough of you, baby
Can you get enough of me?
I was made for loving you, baby
You were made for loving me
And I can give it all to you, baby
Can you give it all to me?

-"I Was Made for Lovin' You," Kiss

Notes:

*Wheezes in frustrated orgasm*

 

What kind of person ends on that note?!?

Chapter 17: Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it

Summary:

“That’s it,” Trevor managed, gritting his teeth to stop himself from biting into a neck that arched like Adrian would under him. It throbbed inside of him, the need to take, to plunge, to pull cries of pleasure and the plea of his name from the painter. As it was, every yes was a firm stroke up his body and every helpless whimper a slap of lust.

Don’t hurt him, be gentle, he thought and desperately scrambled for tenderness. Trevor didn’t think of himself as a thoughtful or soft man but he understood that would be important right now. Adrian deserved nothing less and no matter what, he wouldn’t fail him.

Notes:

Nov 20-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Adrian moved like a dream under his hands. It was like that first kiss but somehow even better. This time Trevor knew what was between them. He knew Adrian would shudder and arch under his touch and each time the blonde did, it was glorious certainty that this man would be his.

When those long, elegant hands wove into his hair, Trevor cheerfully consigned all rational thought to oblivion. Concerns of being quiet, worries about who was listening, what might be shared as gossip later; nothing mattered but the shimmering moonbeam he was discovering under his fingertips.

If Trevor wasn’t positive that Adrian had no idea how tremendously erotic his reactions were, he might think the painter had practiced those gasps, trembles and flutters. They ignited forest fires of want under his skin and arrowed straight to his cock. When Trevor touched flat nipples as soft as water, he thought of rose petals and secret gardens. Then Adrian yanked his hair, and all Trevor could think of was getting inside him.

“That’s it,” Trevor managed, gritting his teeth to stop himself from biting into a neck that arched like Adrian would under him. It throbbed inside of him, the need to take, to plunge, to pull cries of pleasure and the plea of his name from the painter. As it was, every yes was a firm stroke up his body and every helpless whimper a slap of lust.

Don’t hurt him, be gentle, he thought and desperately scrambled for tenderness. Trevor didn’t think of himself as a thoughtful or soft man but he understood that would be important right now. Adrian deserved nothing less and no matter what, he wouldn’t fail him.

Belmont lifted the blonde into his arms and struggled not to whimper. It would have been a terrible combination given his currently cross-eyed expression, as miles of Adrian’s strong, leggy muscles wrapped around his hips. When he eased the TA down, he was well aware they were crossing a threshold that Trevor wasn’t sure he could come back from.

Powerful emotions that he had no business feeling were rampaging through him like bulls in the streets of Spain. Trevor wasn’t sure that the possibility of his heart being trampled wasn’t a real a danger here. But he was willing to risk it. When he pushed up Adrian’s shirt, he groaned. He’d seen this torso across the room before, but damn if it wasn’t even more entrancing up close.

There was that fascinating scar again, and Belmont needed to taste that pink skin. He licked over it and Adrian bucked hard enough that Trevor surged up to check his expression. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw it on the floor. The painter was speaking to him, but Trevor wasn’t really listening anymore.

The drawings, Belmont thought. He’d somewhat registered the papers on the couch when he set Adrian down on it. Now though, he really saw them. It was so bizarre to see his own eyes, thoughtful and a little dreamy, gazing back at him. He picked it up slowly and just stared. Do I ever really look that soft? He wondered, noting his scar was perfectly rendered, even the funny quirk at the end.

There was another one, half under the couch and he bent to retrieve it. Wow, I had no idea I could look that forbidding, he thought, amused and a little sad. He was clearly mid-snarl and furious. I wonder how familiar this face is to Tepes, he thought with a pang and wished his temper didn’t factor so strongly between them.

Something quieted in the sculptor, strengthened and settled. He couldn’t believe Adrian had drawn these from memory. As far as he knew, the painter had never sketched him in the flesh. Trevor looked up at Adrian and saw huge embarrassment, resignation and a great deal of apprehension.

“I’m flattered.” The brunette said, and meant it. It was humbling and overwhelming to be seen with such a discerning eye. To be invited into an artist’s world in such a pervasive way. Adrian’s face broke into a lovely smile. Trevor continued, “I don’t think I’ve been drawn or painted since I was a teenager and that was my mother, so it’s definitely not the same.”

Adrian’s eyes gentled. “My mother painted me too.” His smile was small but sassy, “I cherish it fiercely, but it’s terrible. A painter she most certainly is not.”

Trevor knew his smile was bittersweet but he couldn’t help it. “My mothers’ wasn’t terrible. She wasn’t Rembrandt, but she had talent. It’s gone now. All of her works are; they were lost in the fire.”

Adrian’s eyes disappeared under those long lashes for a moment and when he looked up at Trevor, they were poignant with grief. “I honestly cannot imagine. I am so sorry.” The sculptor believed him and it sweetened the moment between them.

Still, he had to stifle a sigh when Adrian sat up. Although he’d already come to the conclusion that the moment was lost and rational sense suggested that they don’t do this here, he felt frustrated desire creeping in. Damn it.

“We really should go back to my apartment,” the blonde brushed back his hair, a faint blush on his cheeks, “there’s um, lots of ears here and—”

“Thin walls here,” Trevor finished for him. “Yeah, it makes sense.”

Adrian was clearly struggling to repress a shy grin. “I have to tell you though; I wish that we could stay and the other people could go.”

Trevor’s smile was slow and pleased. “How close did you say your apartment was?” he purred happily and put out his hand.

---

Adrian couldn’t believe how ridiculously close he had been to having sex with Trevor Belmont. I was going to have sex on campus. In my studio. Within earshot of Grant, and John and Sara and literally everyone. I’m Trevor's teacher. I know better. I

He looked over at the brunette. Trevor’s hair was ruffled by the breeze and he was whistling something catchy. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes and a distinctly smug swagger in his step. I did that, Adrian thought with a little thrill. Belmont had been quite cheerful since Adrian had mentioned he wished they could stay. Alright, since I kissed him, he thought.

The painter still couldn’t believe he’d done that. There was sexual apprehension for him that meant he never instigated romantic affection, but somehow, in that moment, it had been such a huge need that it overcame it. He doesn’t hate me, he thought with joy. In fact, I think he likes me.

Really Adrian? His brain responded sarcastically. The man had every intention of fucking you on that couch; I think you’re good.

Yes, he thought stubbornly, but that doesn't mean he likes me. There is such a thing as hate sex. Or so I have heard. Anyway, there was nothing mean or cruel in the way he touched me. When he told me he doesn’t hate me, I could tell he meant it. He shivered as they reached the edge of campus and turned down the block. Trevor looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. Adrian felt his lips twitch. He could practically read Belmont’s mind and felt his cheeks heat.

If we were alone… he thought and felt a twinge. I wish it was like this with Sypha. I wish I wasn’t so afraid. His desire for her was huge, but the fear there was significantly greater. If he messed it up... He didn't know why he was so afraid but it was likely a combination of knowing about her sexual prowess and having an enormously important connection to her.

If he could have that same overwhelming reaction with her, there was no question that they would have made love by now. He blushed, remembering what touching her had been like. If being touched by Trevor was like being in the center of a storm of lust, then touching Sypha was like diving into an ocean of pleasure. It was vast and it was true and if you went too deep you felt like you were drowning.

It was terrifying and it made him falter. But he trusted Sypha, more than he trusted even himself. She understood him and she loved him. There was time to explore their desire and he knew she would give him the space to set his own pace.

He looked at Trevor again. The way the sculptor moved made everything in the painter tense and melt at the same time. There is no pace for Trevor but full-throttle, he acknowledged. In a way it was great. In another way it devoured him and made him afraid. He couldn’t decide if it was better to be swept along or to have time to think it through.

Trevor looked back at him and laughed. “Alright there, Legs. If you’re gonna make moon eyes at me, at least let me hold your hand.” Belmont put his out and the painter felt his heart gleefully jump on to the Ferris wheel and climb to the top. He took Trevor’s hand and felt the sculptor’s callouses slide up against his palm. The brunette squeezed his hand gently and Adrian felt it against his heart.

I love him, the blonde thought and for the first time, it was with acceptance. When they stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and waited for the light to change, the painter listened to the sound of Trevor’s chains clink and the crosses move against the metal. “Can I ask you something?” Adrian glanced sideways at Trevor and saw the brunette’s lips curve.

“I was waiting for that, actually.” Trevor ran his thumb over the back of the painter’s hand. “Your stare was a little too speculative.” Adrian opened his mouth to apologize, not wanting to break this lovely moment, but the sculptor continued in a teasing tone. “You can ask and depending on what it is, I might answer.” He turned his head slowly with an unabashedly sensual gaze, “But if it’s sexual, I promise I’ll answer.”

Despite himself, Adrian swallowed hard. “Um, it wasn’t going to be, but that’s only because I hadn’t thought of a sexual question.”

Trevor looked seriously amused. “I need to make a better impression then,” he said and pulled Adrian to him. Wait, we’re— and coherent thought was lost against lips that took him fast and deep. The world ceased to exist except inside the glory of Belmont’s mouth, the feel of his hand in the painter’s hair and his light touch on the underside of Adrian's jaw.

Tepes forgot his nerves, his question, his uncertainty and found only hot, flowing life pulsing between them. It throbbed in time with the rhythm of his heartbeat and called to the painter of ancient need and timeless certainty. He didn’t know it but the same thing had happened to Trevor, the first time Sypha came under his tongue.

I could do this forever, drifted like a leaf in the river of Adrian’s consciousness. This is forever, right here.

Neither man knew the beautiful picture they made to the crowds flowing around them and how many people sighed over the two young lovers lost in each other. Hearts fluttered and lips curved. It was spring in many ways that day.

---

Sypha was curled up on the couch, laptop on the coffee table and tablet in her hand. She looked over the reference picture and gave a critical eye to her draft. She had completed the sketch and was starting to layer it but there was something in the render that wasn’t working. Adrian and she had dinner plans before catching up on some Netflix. Not Netflix and chill, she thought, but soon.

She was looking forward to some gentle flirting this evening and if she played her cards right, maybe even subliminally convincing him to kiss her. She had it all worked out in her head, where she would sit on the couch, linking her hand with his and leaning in until…

She heard the lock release code on the door and grinned. Saving her work, she started to put the tablet down when she heard Trevor’s voice. Holy shit, she thought with excitement. It was immediately tempered with intense curiosity that Adrian had brought him here, and fear that Trevor wouldn’t want to see her.

“Okay, because you are letting me hold your hand, I am gonna ask. Is this place yours? Because I could fit my damn apartment in your foyer.” Sypha felt a sharp pain and keen exasperation. Don’t do this. It doesn’t matter Trevor, really. It was immediately followed by: Wait, you are holding hands?

Adrian’s laugh was low and uneasy. “My parents bought it for me. I tried to pay them back but they won’t let me. As a result, it’s in my name but…”

“Gotcha,” Trevor interrupted. Sypha winced. There was an edge there and it was pride. Come on Belmont, she thought, you don’t want to be judged for your family. Don’t judge him for his.

“Your apartment was small, so what? I liked it.” Adrian’s voice was sincere. “Your creativity was everywhere in it. You are literally living in your work. There’s such immersion there that I envy; it is so dedicated. Was it a car engine?”

Trevor laughed and there was real delight in it. “Yes, and you are cute. ‘Living in my work.’ Come on. Are you trying to tell me you don’t have a studio in here somewhere? I don’t believe—” They had come around the corner and Trevor saw her. Sypha stood slowly, heart aching.

Sure enough, they were holding hands. The digital artist was pleased that she wasn’t so small-hearted that she couldn’t genuinely be happy for them. Now if she and Trevor could make headway, well, the world would be pretty damn perfect.

Adrian gave her a small smile and a slight nod. Sypha could see her best friend squeeze Belmont’s hand before he let go. Trevor stepped forward and she took in the look of him. He looked happy and soft. He looked beautiful and she loved him so much. Belmont looked back at her and said, “I’m an asshole.”

“Yep, what else?” Sypha said.

He took a step toward her. “I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you were and thank you, I appreciate that.” She linked her hands, careful not to sound too eager or too judgmental. She wanted a real resolution here, not just a patch job. “What else?”

Trevor’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head to look at her. “I love you?” he offered, softly and a little unsure. Her heart simply broke. It was like he didn’t think she would say it back. You don’t get out of my love that easy, Trevor Belmont, she thought.

She smiled tenderly, “I love you too, so very much.” He grinned, a blooming flower that had found sunshine. He started forward quickly. “But I am still waiting,” she finished, brow arched.

Trevor paused, looked completely confused and looked over her face searchingly. He finally said, “I’m sorry, what do you need me to say? I will say it.”

Sypha looked at him, and understood that he really didn’t know. She stepped toward him, encouraging, but steady. “Why? Why were you like that to me? It was unbearable and I need to know why. What was the reason?”

Trevor grimaced, but approached her with his arms open. “Ah shit. Yeah, that’s completely reasonable and really hard, but I will try. Can I touch you first? I just want to—”

Sypha jumped him and wrapped her legs around him for a huge kiss. His mouth was hard and yearning under hers. She smelled that warm, nutbread and hot metal scent of Trevor and welcomed the flip-flop of her heart and stomach. This man was home.

When his tongue met hers, she dived in, working her hands into his hair. They would be alright; she could taste it in his kiss. And I can feel him getting hard under me, she thought with answering desire. Yep, we good. His fingertips pressed into her hips and she murmured, “I’m gonna fuck your brains out tonight and you’re going to tell me you love me while I do it.”

“Now that is a whole ass plan,” Trevor growled back at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, the digital artist saw Adrian, blushing and obviously trying to discreetly slip out of the room. Uh oh, is he jealous? She wondered. Embarrassed? Uncertain what to do? But when he moved to the side, she could see he was aroused and it was like an open-palmed slap on her ass.

Oh please, she thought, just get in here and we’ll do it any way you want to. I’ll fuck you until you see stars. Hell, Trevor can fuck you and I’d happily blow you while he does it.

Sypha jerked her head up, pinned the blonde with her eyes and put out her hand. “And where do you think you are going? Get your ass over here. This is a makeup kiss damn it. If we are all finally friends, you should be in here.”

Adrian’s eyes went huge and he pointed at himself as if to say, “Who me?” It was sweet, innocent and hilarious. What it shouldn’t have been was unbelievably sexy. She knew it was just Adrian's uncertainty, but his sensual innocence was tremendously hot.

Just as she was wondering if she’d pushed too hard, Trevor said, “Please, Adrian? You belong here with us. It’s so good to finally not be fighting. We can just hug if you’re all kissed out.” Fuck you Belmont, she thought and made a grumbling noise.

Trevor grinned. “I mean,” he purred, “I do have a responsibility to all my lovers to give kisses equally. Sypha is behind. I’ve definitely favored you today.”

Damn braggart, she thought and playfully punched his shoulder, “How many kisses?! I need to catch up!” He puckered dramatically and she clapped a hand over his mouth. “Not you! Adrian! I’m apparently behind multiple times?!” Without looking directly at him, she could see the tall blonde considering. It was the indecisiveness that helped her decide.

She looked at Trevor and wiggled her brows. Let’s get him, she thought and knew he understood when he smiled against her palm. Her lover squeezed her hip three times in rapid succession as affirmation.

When he put her down, they turned as one to Adrian. “So, this is how it’s going to go,” Trevor said slyly and with obvious anticipation. “You can kiss one of us, but then the other one is going to do something.”

“Uh, what? I um, you two are, I mean you were, I just—” Adrian was stuttering, but Sypha noted that he did not back away. A quick glance also confirmed he was still very turned on. Just wait gorgeous, she thought.

“If you want to kiss Trevor, I would like to watch.” Sypha said and tried not to speak with such breathy desire. She didn’t want to make him nervous so she told him exactly what she intended. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. I might touch him though, because I can already imagine how fucking hot you two kissing would be and I just… need to.”

Trevor chuckled, “Oh there will be touching babe, don’t you worry.”

Adrian looked wildly between her and Trevor. Settling his gaze on Trevor he asked, “And if I kiss Sypha?”

“Well, I would really like to blow you while you do, but—” Trevor started to say, spreading his hands. Adrian’s little gasp of shock made her want to moan. Have mercy, she thought, if those are the sounds you make; I am gonna explode.

Trevor’s sounds tended to be feral and needy. She had wondered what would Adrian’s be. Would he growl and dominate like Trevor? Or would he moan, melt and submit? It seems he might tend towards surrender and she adored it. She needed to taste it against her mouth and feel it under her hands. I want to feel it inside me, she thought and her desire layered higher.

At the same time, she didn’t want Trevor to come on too strong. What do I know though? If Trevor’s been kissing him as much as he says, he’s obviously doing something right. Maybe more assertive was a good idea. “I would love to kiss you,” Sypha said with a happy shudder and took another step forward. She indicated Trevor with her shoulder, “And he’ll behave, don’t worry.”

The brunette pouted. “Besides,” Sypha said, eyes locked with her best friend, “Belmont’s not gonna shut up about how amazing it was to kiss you, and well, I am doing my best not to be jealous.”

Trevor started to circle Adrian and she could see him gently stroke a hand over the painter’s hair. When the blonde trembled, Sypha felt her desire stoke into a roar. Soon. Take it easy, she told herself, trying to ignore the molten inferno happening between her thighs. Oh, you’ve got it bad my friend, it’s just a kiss. No, it’d be a beginning to something I have wanted forever.

“Kissing me…amazing?” Adrian whispered; eyes glued to her.

“Oh yes,” the sculptor purred from beside him. Sypha stopped in front of the blonde and looked up.

“See?” she whispered. “He’s a bragger.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Adrian said, confusion warring with desire on his face. “He tripped me. The kiss just... happened.”

Ah, Sypha thought, thank you for that tidbit. “Well then, may I just happen to kiss you?” She asked, “I believe I mentioned that you could lie back and take it.”

Adrian’s golden eyes were turbulent. “Yes, I mean, you did and I do, I just think—!” Sypha gently put her hand on his cheek and smiled.

“I really love you,” she whispered and went on her tiptoes. Eyes on his, she said, "You should kiss me, we both want you to." But inside, she thought: Moment of truth. She waited with a huge lump of nerves in her throat. She couldn’t actually reach his lips unless he leaned into her and if he didn’t, well…

His lips parted and he cupped her jaw. When his eyes dropped to her mouth, she knew he was going to kiss her and she instinctively closed her eyes. For an infinite eternity, she waited in the dark. She felt his hand tighten on her cheek, felt his breath against her lips and then he was kissing her.

It was like watching a flawless raindrop slide down a window. You follow its path with your eyes, trace over the cool glass with your fingertips and lose yourself in the myriad of color and miniature worlds waiting inside that single drop.

Measured, easy, timeless perfection waited on his lips and it was like she turned into a bird. The world was infinite, vast and falling at her feet. She’d told him that being touched by him was like coming home. Being kissed by him was being carried over the threshold.

There was a hint of warmth on his inner lip and Sypha could taste the spring breeze there. Everything in her tumbled into his mouth. When he sighed into her lips, she fit herself against him, reveling in the way they suited each other.

You want me, she thought with immense satisfaction, and slowly rocked into his hips. He was extremely hard and it made her belly clench with need. It was her turn to moan and Adrian’s hand slipped from her jaw to fist in her hair. When his tongue caressed hers, Sypha let her head drop back and yielded.

“My beautiful Sypha,” he murmured against her mouth and his hand drifted down to cup her breast. Oh fuck, yes, she thought as she instinctively thrust into him again and whimpered. His touch was so light, so soft and he hesitated.

“Please,” she begged against his mouth, “don’t stop, I want you to.”

Long, elegant fingers traced the shape of her breast and teased her nipple. It caused keen splinters of pleasure to tumble through her. I should have known he’d be a natural, she thought, or maybe it’s just me. Maybe he’s just made for me, made to touch me, made to drive me crazy with these sensations.

His tongue traced over her lip, tender and light as petals. Adrian brought his hands to her shoulders and eased back slightly. Sypha tried not to hiss with displeasure. I don’t want this to end, she thought, but tried to stay calm.

When she opened her eyes, he was looking down at her, waiting. He wasn’t quite making eye contact. “Again? Please?” she asked in a husky voice. Adrian broke into a huge grin and met her eyes, before he gave her a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m glad that was okay,” he said, fumbled and clarified, "I mean that I was okay."

Sypha sagged. “Okay is the understatement of the century,” she said. Her best friend blushed lightly and nodded.

"Kissing you, that was more than okay. It was...You were..." he seemed at a loss for words.

“That was so hot, I might need to reconsider all my life choices,” Trevor said from behind them, voice distinctly thick.

The pair turned to him. Sypha hooted while Adrian let out a startled “oh!”

Trevor had sat down in the armchair behind them, slung one arm over the back and the other over the front of his cargo pants. He was casually stroking his cock through the fabric that was doing absolutely nothing to hide his seriously interested state. Liked the show, didn’t you? Sypha thought and knew she’d be asking him for details on his kisses later.

“What?” he said, unashamed. “That was smoking hot. I didn’t want to interrupt and frankly, it was damn considerate of me not to!” He leaned forward slightly. “Personally, I think we should just find a bed somewhere in here and continue. Who’s with me?”

I am, Sypha thought instantly, and felt the sudden tension in the arm of her best friend. Restraining her own needs, she reminded herself that all of them needed clarity before taking that step. “I would love that too and would definitely return to this later. However, you owe me--actually us,” she glanced at Adrian, “a conversation about yesterday.”

Trevor winced and sighed. “Sex would be more fun.”

Sypha grinned, “Oh I am sure it would be, however, talking and communication has been a problem for all of us. It’s secret spilling time Belmont, let’s have it.”

Trevor threw himself back into the chair. “Motherfucker.”

“Um, no thanks. Threesome at some point in the future is an enthusiastic yes, but mother-fucking is a solid no from me.” Adrian deadpanned and Sypha giggled. Even Trevor cracked a smile and Adrian preened happily in response.

“Tell you what,” the blonde continued. “If I might?” he looked at Sypha and she smiled. “I have some news as well, and to be frank, there is plenty we all need to discuss. Why don’t I fix something in the kitchen and we can sit down? Maybe some food might help.”

Trevor jumped up. “Food, hey? Yep, lead on, I will food the hell out of your kitchen.”

Sypha laughed, and took both their hands, “Look at us, all happy and shit.”

--- 

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

-"Never Gonna Give You Up," Rick Astley

Notes:

*melts at the happy* Sypha got her kiss! (First of many, whoot!) About damn time too, Trevor has been all in his glory and she has been capital T thirsty,poor girl <3
---
Just an FYI, I actually had this done a couple of days ago. Unexpected news delayed me and I finally got to post this today. I have the next chapter half completed but it's unlikely I will have it up with my usual speed. I will have it up by Nov 24/20 however, as I don't want to lose momentum on this work. Apologies for the unexpected delay and hopefully this will keep you smiling until then. 😊
---
Thanks to Pexals. Specifics: Adrian: Danila Kovalev, Sypha: model unknown, Trevor: Giulio Berruti. Black and Pink Art: @didssph (Twitter),

Chapter 18: There's magic in your eyes

Summary:

Sypha’s firm slap on his ass snapped Adrian out of his shock and he immediately loosed a breathy, ‘ohhh.’

Oh wow, that’s a ridiculous sound, he thought with dismay.

Sypha was looking at him, biting her lower lip and true blue eyes wide with sensuous humor. She kissed his shoulder lightly. “I’m telling you; you are anything but disappointing,” she said, sounding breathless, “the sounds you make are… intoxicating. I could eat you with some whipped cream and a spoon.”

“I’m a simple man,” Trevor said, watching them from the other side of the table. “I’d just spread you over this table myself, but that’s me.”

Notes:

Nov 23 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

This day was something out of a dream. Not only did he get to kiss Adrian—three times!—but he also made up with Sypha, had the promise of some epic makeup sex with her in store and then watched Adrian and Sypha kiss like they were fragile, spun glass rotating in a sphere of light. It'd been sweet, sexy and oddly poignant. Fucking hell, it couldn’t get better.

Okay, so the idea that Adrian had been given a fucking apartment was giving him a complex and he was positively dreading having to try to explain what happened yesterday, but all in all, things were definitely looking up.

He followed the blonde into the kitchen and smiled at the potted herbs in a weirdly cute flower pot that was shaped like the Venus of Willendorf. Granted, the whole apartment was upper class but Adrian had packed it so full of art that he felt right at home. After all, art was a language he understood his whole life.

“What do you guys feel like?” Tepes asked and Trevor shrugged.

“Whatcha got?” he answered and the painter opened the fridge. He peeked behind Adrian’s shoulder and his jaw dropped. The fridge was packed with food. There were things that Trevor hadn’t tasted in months and if that was actually salmon, that would be years.

“Did you just buy the store?” he asked incredulously. The sculptor regretted his comment immediately. He’d already reacted poorly to the apartment and had heard the answering unhappiness in Adrian’s voice when he’d explained his ownership of it. Trevor tried to soften it. “I mean, wow, you knew I was coming, huh?”

Adrian fluttered his hands, giving the brunette a nervous smile. “I actually never eat like this. I usually buy frozen fruits and vegetables and do smoothies. This was my mother. I went out with her last weekend and she told me she’d ‘send some extras from their dinner party’ back in the car and yeah, it’s ridiculous.” He sighed. “I love my parents but sometimes I wonder if they will ever see me as an adult.”

“Only child?” Trevor asked, eyeing what looked like genoa salami and reminding himself that his dignity was important. More important than genoa salami? He wondered. Maybe?

“Mmm, yep,” Adrian said and started pulling things out of the fridge. “Still not sure what that says about me, ha ha.”

Trevor clucked sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s tough, but it could also just be a mom thing.” Pull out the salmon Adrian, pull out the salmon, for the love of Gordon Ramsey, please just… Adrian pulled out the salmon and Trevor wanted to hug him.

The blonde said, “I was thinking some poached salmon with dill and le—”

Yes!” Trevor said gleefully and far too loudly. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “I mean, that sounds great.”

“I’m with Trevor,” Sypha said equally happily, watching them both from the island. “I can’t remember the last time I had fish that wasn’t breaded and deep fried. Could we do some appetizers while we wait? I was hungry an hour ago and I promise to help if I get fed.”

Adrian made a distressed sound. “You know you can take whatever you want, why did you wait? You don’t have to ask!”

Sypha’s smile was sweet, “Hey I know; I just forgot! I was in the groove with my art, you know how it is.” Mollified, Adrian smiled back and nodded toward the fridge.

“That goes for you too Trevor, go nuts, I can’t possibly eat all that and I am going to have to freeze the cheese and salami.” Trevor took that as his cue. “Which honestly, is just not as good.” The brunette wrapped his hand around the genoa and tried not to moan like a cow in heat.

“Actually!” Adrian looked up. “You two should take some home! I was going to make a tray and drop it in the student lounge but this would be better!” Trevor tensed and looked over at Sypha. She was grinning and her eyes flicked to the sculptor.

“Absolutely, that would be awesome, thank you and thanks be for Lisa’s classic mom move,” Sypha sauntered over to the fridge and casually snuggled up to Trevor as Adrian reached into a cabinet. “Be cool, it’s his way,” she whispered to him and the sculptor took a breath. “Talk later, I promise,” she murmured again and then spoke in a normal voice.

“I’m making the appies. You have all this fresh fruit and I’ll be damned if it’s going in a smoothie.” Keeping one hand clamped on the salami, Trevor eased back from the fridge to give her space. Then he saw the beer. Pride warred with Adrian’s invitation to go nuts.

He looked over. Adrian was oiling a pan and Sypha was piling fruit on the counter. “Ooooh, snap, your Mom sent the Copain Syrah!” Sypha said happily. She looked up suspiciously, “She knew I was coming over, didn’t she?” Adrian laughed.

“She knows about our weekly date, yes, so I am sure that was a consideration. Please have some; she sent four bottles and you know I can’t drink on my own. I’m sending some with you anyway. Trevor? Would you like some—? Wait! Actually! Do you like beer? Why my mother sent it, I don’t—”

Trevor was already behind him, giving him a from-behind hug with the salami slung around Adrian’s front like a weird meat offering. Not the meat I want to give you but the symbolism is nice, Trevor thought. “I love your mom. Ask her if she’ll adopt me,” he mumbled into Adrian’s shirt. He inhaled the scent of paint, flowers and licorice and felt happy.

Sypha laughed, “Oh, that’ll happen as soon as she meets you! Why do you think she sent Adrian home with one of my favorite wines? Lisa is incredibly generous and thoughtful, it’s amazing.”

Is it really that simple? It’s just money. Kindness. What are the intentions? Am I going to resent their success or be gracious in the face of generosity?

“Um, Trevor? I’m all for the hug,” Adrian said with amusement, “but that salami’s weirdly phallic and right there in my face, so could you put it down please?”

Trevor grinned and deliberately inched it up towards Adrian’s mouth. “Oh c’mon, it won’t be the last time my salami is in your face.”

“Oh no, tell me you aren’t making a sex joke with a two-foot genoa salami?” Adrian said dryly. “You are setting up expectations you can’t possibly fulfill.”

Alright Adrian, Trevor thought, impressed, not so shy, now are you? Let’s see how you react to this. “I never said anything about having a two-foot dick, that’s ridiculous.” Trevor said, lightly tapping the salami on Adrian’s chin. The blonde grumbled and batted it away. “I do, however, feel a kinship with the girth of this genoa though, just saying.”

“Ha! What utter…” Trevor ground into his ass and Adrian yelped. “Holy shit! You—that’s—wow.” Trevor stepped back with a smug grin and Adrian looked over his shoulder, cheeks burning. “So, um, okay. My mistake.”

“Just wait until he swings it,” Sypha said, leaning against the counter, lips parted and eyes hot. “Have I mentioned I love you two together? Like sooo much love? Why should salami face smacking be so H. O. T. I do not know, but gimme.”

“Speaking of salami’s in your face.” Trevor wiggled his eyebrows at Sypha. “Can a man add things to our 'to do' list tonight?” Sypha grinned and arched a brow. Hot damn, he thought.

Adrian took a deep breath that made Trevor look over. The blonde was looking intently at the counter. Shit did we— “Okay, so I am going to fight through my horrid humiliation here,” the painter said in a quiet voice, “and just ask you, Sypha. How do you,” he indicated Trevor, “uh,” he made an 'ahem' sound, “with your mouth?”

Trevor went hot. He’s thinking about blowing me right now, he’s actually thinking he might and meanwhile all I want to do it go on my knees and do that to him and— Sixty nine, his brain helpfully supplied with the remaining blood that wasn’t re-routing to his cock, you are thinking of a sixty nine.

“Oh, fuck me,” the sculptor groaned, “I’ll be so good, I swear. I’ll give a seminar. I’ll make a step by step pamphlet, just let me—”

“Hey, he was asking me, Genoa Girth. Go play with your salami,” Sypha said, sticking her tongue out. Just wait until I get to that tongue tonight sweetheart, he thought.

She eased on by Trevor and came alongside Adrian. Sypha touched the blonde’s arm, looked at him and smiled, “I need a cutting board and a knife for the fruit first, but then let’s talk.”

---

Sypha was willing Trevor to be calm. She’d watched him struggle with the casual offers of food and knew that he was really trying. It was one of his quirks that he could sneak food off her plate but if she offered, it somehow changed the dynamic. His tease with Adrian had been incredible to see, especially when Adrian blushed so beautifully and actually batted his eyes at Trevor when he declared it was his mistake.

She wanted to applaud Belmont’s restraint in fading into the background when Adrian asked her about getting Trevor’s dick into her mouth. She knew what it’d done to her to hear it so she could only imagine Belmont’s inner monologue. Thankfully, the man just took the salami and a knife and waltzed off to the couch.

Truth be told, it was a fair question. Sometimes her jaw would ache, but thankfully, that cock was its own reward. Even if it hadn’t been, Trevor always made it worth her while. Working alongside her best friend, they used the tasks they were working on to skirt the embarrassment of having such a frank discussion. They’d talked about sex before but it was always her sex with someone else and usually how terrible it had been.

Sypha wasn’t a bragger, so she didn’t go on-and-on in the past about the good lays but she’d touched on them for sure. Now, she was incredibly grateful for those conversations because she already had a basis of language that they were both comfortable with.

“He’s really good at directing, he wasn’t kidding about that. I like it when he puts his hands in my hair and kinda moves me around; it’s hot and I can watch him,” the digital artist said conversationally. Adrian hissed and Sypha threw him a sideways glance. Whoops, too much? she wondered. “Sorry, TMI?” she asked casually, inwardly wincing.

“No, actually it’s incredibly sexy. I just…” Adrian stopped slicing potatoes and looked at her. He swallowed. “The idea of this is overwhelming. Like, I want it, so bad, you don’t even know but it feels huge. I wish I could turn off my brain and just do it.”

Oh sweetie, let’s get started, I promise, we’ll re-route your brain ASAP, she thought. Instead, Sypha put her hand on his arm. “I wish I could help you with that, really. All I can tell you is that we both want you more than you can possibly imagine, we’ll wait for you and we’ll be gentle with you.”

Adrian winced, “I feel like such a child. It’s just sex.” You don’t believe that though, she said silently, or you would have had sex already.

“But it’s not.” Sypha said slowly, feeling her way through the conversation. “It’s never been for you. It’s wrapped up in a vulnerability and a giving that is really meaningful and beautiful. I’m just realizing now that there’s also a fear of the unknown in there. I respect that. Would it help you to know that I am scared too? I want it to be perfect for you and I am afraid of disappointing you.”

“You know,” Trevor’s voice came from the living room, and Adrian put his head in his hands. “We could all just get drunk and—”

“Trevor Belmont!” Sypha snapped out. “Put some music on and stop eaves-dropping you dick for brains!”

“Just a thought,” Trevor grumbled, “the man is gorgeous and I just want to jump his bones. If alcohol would help, and we’re all clear and good with that, then why the hell not? Just want some ass.”

Her best friend peeked up from his hands and grinned. Nicely done Belmont, Sypha thought, appreciating that he’d successfully overcome the moment of Adrian’s insecurity with humor.

“Better stick close Sypha, if I get him drunk and you’re unavailable, I am going for it,” Trevor stuck out his tongue at her and she returned it. Good for him, she thought, he planted the idea of a one on one possibility.

It wasn’t the end game she wanted but she could understand how the idea of your first time in a threesome might be daunting as hell. It might very well be simpler to give him a one-on-one first and then go for the threesome.

“Anyway,” Sypha said as Trevor messed around on the sound system, “you are worth waiting for and you aren’t the only one with nerves. I was actually thinking, if you wanted to be with just one—”

Music boomed out and RuPaul’s “I’m that Bitch” bounced into the room. “I-I-I'm that bitch/that's the way it is/Don't-don't-don't you wish,” Adrian sunk down behind his hands again and Sypha whooped, “It’s my fucking jam! Adrian! Adrian, what—?”

“I’m not sure I am ready for this level of disclosure with Belmont,” Adrian muttered, face beet red. “He already thinks I’m ridiculous.” Amusement bloomed. RuPaul’s Drag Race was their Netflix date night. They’d only discovered the show over the summer and had slowly been making their way through the seasons. They were currently on Season 9 and were fiercely opposed on who should win.

“Stroke it like a petting zoo and take it for a ride,” Trevor came around the island, hips swaying, lips singing and sass level three hundred. Her best friend jerked up, eyes wide and jaw hanging. See? Don’t assume Adrian, Sypha thought gratefully. I told you, he’s complicated.

“He think I'm a catcher, but tonight I wanna pitch,” Sypha sang with Belmont and he picked her up for a twirl. “In case you missed the chorus, girl, I'm that bitch!” He set her down and sashayed over to Adrian with his arms out.

The blonde looked so bemused and incredulous that Sypha had to grin. Her best friend took the hand of her lover. Trevor spun Adrian into a tight whirl, they laughed together, and Sypha felt her heart burst. This is what I saw from the beginning, she thought, I knew it could be like this.

---

“So I’m sure that Shea Coulee is going to win. She is so fierce, gorgeous and talented, I adore her! I’d also let her rail me until I pass out, but that’s beside the point,” Sypha was saying as she took the potatoes out of the oven. “I adored Aja, but she was gone too quick.”

“Fair, fair,” Trevor said, “Shea is the fiercest of queens and owns the runway with that sashay. Aja was a darling. What about you, Adrian?” the brunette turned to him and the blonde smiled shyly.

“I’m partial to Sasha Velour myself,” Adrian restrained the need to apologize for the obvious choice. Sypha had told him multiple times he was basically cheering for himself. “She’s so elegant and lovely. She’s never catty and seems very focused. I respect that.”

“Also, true,” Trevor said sagely, “Her makeup game is flawless and her art on point.” He took the pan of salmon from the counter and turned to the dining room table. “I favor Peppermint myself; she lives up to her name and is tremendously fun.”

Adrian finished stirring the poppyseeds into the dressing and followed Trevor out of the kitchen. “So, during the finale, when—” Trevor began loudly and Adrian and Sypha shouted in horror at the same time, drowning him out.

Belmont laughed and bent over to put the salmon on the table. Sypha came over and smacked his ass. Adrian shivered slightly, thinking of Trevor’s smack in the hallway. It seemed this did something for him. He didn’t know whether to ask where his smack was, or try to pretend it didn’t affect him. What is acceptable and what isn’t? he wondered.

“Don’t forget Adrian; he likes that,” Trevor said saucily, looking over his shoulder at the blonde. What?! How did he—? Sypha’s firm slap on his ass snapped Adrian out of his shock and he immediately loosed a breathy, ‘ohhh.’

Oh wow, that’s a ridiculous sound, he thought with dismay.

Sypha was looking at him, biting her lower lip and true blue eyes wide with sensuous humor. She kissed his shoulder lightly. “I’m telling you; you are anything but disappointing,” she said, sounding breathless, “the sounds you make are… intoxicating. I could eat you with some whipped cream and a spoon.”

“I’m a simple man,” Trevor said, watching them from the other side of the table. “I’d just spread you over this table myself, but that’s me.”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t do that too,” Sypha argued and Adrian stared at her. “What?” she caught his eye. “We’ve talked about pegging, you know I dig it.” Holy fuck, I’m going to have to excuse myself. His dream came back to him, but this time she was behind him, soft breasts pressed in his back while she murmured she loved him. Sypha fucking Trevor while I am below them and he’s thrusting into my mouth, using me like…

“I take it, the idea has appeal?” Sypha said with fierce satisfaction.

“I’m in on this, especially if I get to demonstrate some cock worship of my own on him,” Trevor said happily and sat. Holy shit, he had the same thought about me, he saw it too and I need to just… Trevor looked up at him and smirked. “I promise to be very reverential, Legs.”

Adrian had to pry his fingers off his chair so he could pull out Sypha’s. “Thanks,” she said and dropped into it.

The painter sat down slowly and had to adjust before he put his napkin in his lap. “Yep, so much worship,” Trevor murmured and Adrian put his fingers to his temple. Don’t be embarrassed, the blonde coached himself. He’s not, you can do this, just tease back. You are older than him and you aren’t a child. You’ve flirted before. Sort of.

“Trevor, seriously—” Sypha began, but the painter interrupted her.

“The table certainly is tall enough. Less talk, more knees, Belmont,” Adrian said calmly, cheeks only slightly red. He reached for the salad and carefully spooned some on his plate.

Trevor waited until he looked up and started to slide under the table. Adrian froze mid-reach for the salmon, eyes wide and jaw hanging. “Later Belmont,” Sypha said tartly. “Put some food in your mouth instead and then words. I’m still waiting for words here.”

Trevor’s eyes flicked to Tepes and he winked. “Until next time.” Adrian had a sudden, insane image of Trevor sliding under the table at the next boring gala he had to attend, unzipping his pants and licking his clever tongue over the tip of the painter’s cock. Pumping him slowly before hot, humid breath warned him of the impending wet heaven of his mouth. Working his cock into a slow state of insanity until Adrian had to explode inside him. Tepes exhaled slowly. That would be an insane risk to take and yet…

“You’re thinking about it now,” Trevor said with no small amount of smugness. “So am I, but in the meantime, you’re hogging the salmon. Also, I promise, it’ll be better than what you are imagining.”

“You wish,” Sypha retorted, “I’m better at head and you know it. You’re better at hand jobs.” Do they have any idea how unbearably hard I am right now, listening to this? the painter wondered. If the plan is to tempt me until I can’t stand it, its working.

“You are assuming that,” Trevor said indignantly. Sypha always said it was annoying how good she was at blowjobs when most of her partners really sucked at reciprocating. He made a mental note to ask Trevor for some tips on that. God have mercy. He felt himself grow redder.

“We’ll just have to blow him together and ask.” Sypha said smoothly. I can’t listen to this or we’re fucking on this table, right now.

“So what happened in the hallway?” Adrian interrupted abruptly, offering the salmon to Trevor.

The brunette blinked and gave him a pained look. “Low blow, Tepes.”

Adrian smiled sympathetically, “I’m considering changing the subject as a matter of self-preservation. I am in an uncomfortably hard state right now.”

Trevor cheered marginally, “Alright, that helps.” He sighed. “How much do you know about my family?” Oh shit, Adrian thought helplessly. I didn’t realize. Trevor looked at him and grimaced. “Don’t do that. You look like I just ran over your dog.”

The painter blinked and looked away. I’m sorry, I just feel badly that something I did made you feel the loss of your family again. It reminded me that I never apologized for saying those horrible things about them.

Sypha reached out to both of them and they took her hands. “Don’t punish him for caring about you, Trevor. It’s not pity; it's friendship.”

Adrian nodded. “I don’t pity you. It’s impossible to pity someone as fiercely independent as you. You are scarily competent.”

Trevor grinned, “I’ll take it, thanks.” He sobered. “Scary is better than pathetic, criminal or tragic; all of which I have heard before.”

The blonde laced his fingers with Trevor’s and gently squeezed. The sculptor looked at their hands as he began to speak.

--- 

Oh, twisted
Under, sideways, down
I know you're getting twisted
And you can't calm down
I see you under the midnight
Love darts in your eyes
How far can you take it
'Til you realize
There's magic in your eyes
I got a hold on you
I got a hold on you tonight

-“Magic," The Cars

Notes:

Betcha never look at genoa salami the same way again. Adrian certainly won't 😎
---
Pexals for the background, computer, painting and metal shot. Sypha: Julia Cancado, Adrian: Danila Kovalev and Trevor: Enrico Ravena
—-
An individual whom I really respect alerted me to the fact that RuPaul has publicly demeaned and marginalized trans people. At the time of writing this I was not aware of this and I am really saddened and angry about this behaviour from someone who is perfectly positioned to be an advocate and supporter of our trans friends and family. I debated rewriting and changing this but I don’t want to try to change history to make myself look better, but to take a moment to pass on the education that I received to my readers, as to what the issue actually is and improve upon my ability to give voices to trans-positive programming. I have ceased watching RuPaul’s Drag Race in favor of The Boulet Brother’s Dragula because of this. I would strongly encourage you to examine the issue for yourself and determine how you might best support the communities and representations that are important to you in the world as well 💖

Chapter 19: About the loving things

Summary:

“Wait, wait, wait,” Adrian said, gasping with laughter, “did you say that you came to my picture?! Are you kidding me, seriously?!” You make it sound like it only happened once, Trevor thought.

Sypha retorted, “Trevor and half the campus, Adrian. I mean, come on, are you really that surprised?” The blonde’s eyes were huge and he nodded. Really? Trevor thought, at the same time he accepted that it shouldn’t be a surprise that Adrian was oblivious.

“I’m not naked in that though!” The painter said, wiping his eyes and looking back at them. “I just look like me! I’m not even doing anything, just looking at the camera!” Trevor and Sypha looked at each other and then back at him.

“Yeah, you just look like you.” Trevor said. “Completely gorgeous—”
“Captivating,” Sypha chimed in.
“Haunting,” Trevor continued.
“Divine,” Sypha added.
“Perfect,” Trevor finished.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: Semi-gory medical wound metaphor after "there are a million reasons why" line from Sypha 
Nov 26 Mood Board

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I never wanted to be a painter.” That was easy enough to admit. “It was a big deal in my family to be honest. Everyone was a painter but me and I fought it like crazy. Despite everything, fights with my parents, aunts, uncles, I prevailed and was left alone to ‘dabble with trash,’ as my uncle called it.” That still stung and Trevor tried to shrug it off.

Sypha murmured unhappily and Adrian squeezed his hand again. It was strange to have them empathize with him but the warmth he received from their feelings was nice. “Anyway, I made friends with the local junkyard, converted the backyard shed and toiled worry free for years. Sure, I had to accept the bullshit painting lessons, easels, oils, canvas, you get the picture—that I got for Christmas, birthdays, Ramadan, Kwanzaa, you name the holiday and the passive aggressive painting bullshit was there.”

His grin was wicked. “I was very good at converting these ‘gifts’ into cash,” he casually removed his hands, using the excuse of eating some salmon. In reality, he needed the space. “Holy shit, this is good Adrian, wow, thank you.” The blonde smiled.

“Anyway, gift converting is how I was able to afford my first welding torch and mask.” Trevor said, hand wrapped around his beer. “Needless to say, I enjoyed that subtle ‘fuck you,’ every time I picked it up.” Sypha laughed and Adrian cracked a smile. If only it could last, the brunette thought.

“I think my mother was starting to get it, to be honest. She had a small piece I had made for her on her desk in the study and I really think she liked it. My father was more resistant. To be fair, I think he got a lot of shit from the family, especially because I was their only kid and the gallery owners' son. It was a pride thing and I was a blow to that.” Trevor hated that the last sentence came out wistful. He couldn’t change the past.

“Anyway, one Sunday, when I was sixteen, I came home unexpectedly early. I heard an argument between my mother and father.” He shifted uncomfortably and took a swig of beer. Just get on with it. “They didn’t really argue in front of me, and being a bit of an asshole, when I heard my name, I, well, I listened.”

“Only natural,” Sypha murmured, potato forked and waiting. Is it? he wondered.

“Yeah, well, anyway,” Trevor rubbed his eyes. I hate this, he thought and plowed on. “My mother was arguing that I should know, that I might understand because I was getting older and the risk was getting higher. That ‘they’ would assume I knew and if I didn’t, I was in danger. My father argued that I was too young and too rebellious. I couldn’t possibly understand and besides, ‘the backers’ had been assured that I didn’t know. So, me being the young dick that I was, busted in and asked them what I was supposed to know.”

“Ah shit,” Sypha winced and popped her potato into her mouth.

“Yep,” Trevor said, lips firmed in resignation. “So my father told me. He told me that the Belmonts had been forging. That everyone was in on it, like a fucking family tradition. That he was proud of the work they’d done. My mother tried to temper it. I think she read my horror faster than he did. She said that there was more to it than they couldn’t get into yet, but I needed to know now. I needed to keep the secret and one day, she hoped I could be proud of them. Proud.” He took a moment to eat and wished that this meal could be honored with something other than his family’s shame.

“I was so angry. I was so disillusioned. I said horrible things. I told them I hated them. It was the only time my father ever struck me. I said that they were—” Trevor bit it off and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You were young, you were angry and your world was ending.” Sypha said tenderly. “Give yourself a break.”

“You don’t understand,” Trevor tersely retorted. “I never spoke to my parents again. I came home early because I had forgotten my duffel for the weekend. I had a rugby tournament out of the city and left without resolving anything. I refused to take their calls and texted them that I didn’t want to talk to them.” He shook his head regretfully.

“Two days later Isaac and Godbrand are knocking on my hotel room door to tell me I was an orphan. That the last thing I ever said was that they were money-grabbing whores who didn’t deserve the Belmont name.”

“Oh Trevor,” Adrian said and stood up. The brunette’s head snapped up and he watched the blonde come around the table. What is he going to do? the sculptor wondered. Effortless grace, Adrian knelt beside him and took his hand. Soft, gentle strokes were administered across his palm. They calmed and confused him.

Liquid golden eyes looked up at him and Trevor was shocked to see they were swimming with emotion and tears. “If you cannot forgive yourself; please let me. I forgive you,” Adrian said.

Denial, anger, hope and impossibility of this truth, rolled through Trevor like thunder over an endless plain. I forgive you. But what does that mean, how can you do that? Weren’t you listening?

Suddenly Sypha was on the other side of his chair, kneeling and holding his hand. “And I do too. Let it go my love, be free of it. Your parents understood. One argument doesn’t replace a lifetime of love.”

Trevor had no idea what forgiveness might mean to him. Forgiveness given so easily and gently, like a cool hand on a fevered brow. The sculptor looked back and forth between them for a moment then closed his eyes.

“You cannot forgive something you don’t understand,” Belmont said carefully. “I killed my parents. I told someone. After they told me I had to keep the secret, I texted my cousin to ask them if it was true and if their parents had told them the same thing. I sent the text and two days later my parents were executed and my home and the gallery was burnt to the ground. I didn’t know they were involved with the mob; I had to find out from the newspapers.”

His hands reflexively clenched. Trevor wanted to draw back into himself. Sharing this was the hardest thing he’d done in years. But there was abundant understanding on his left and endless acceptance on his right. While he didn’t know what to do with either, he knew only a fool would pull away from it.

But I don’t deserve it. I don’t know if I have it in me to give back, he thought. You didn’t ask for it; they just gave it. They aren’t asking for anything, there is nothing here but giving.

Warm, wet skin brushed over his hand and Trevor’s eyes snapped open. Adrian was cradling his hand to his face and delicate tears streamed into his palm. As he watched, he kissed the sculptor’s hand. Are those tears for me? Trevor thought in shock. He cannot remember the last time someone cried for him out of sympathy.

“Who told you that their deaths and your text were connected, Trevor?” Sypha said gently. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Distracted, Trevor didn’t immediately grasp the significance of Sypha’s question. “Uh, I don’t remember. I think Godbrand mentioned it at some point, something about too much of a coincidence. It wasn’t one. There was never any other suggestion of why this happened or how the newspapers broke the story the same night my parents died.”

“There was never anyone prosecuted for their deaths.” Trevor didn’t know it because he was fighting to keep his voice even, but the fury in his face was poignant. “The court documents, warrants and case files are all sealed because it’s an ongoing investigation. Even the journalist who broke the story wouldn’t talk.” He sighed bitterly. “Not even to me.”

Adrian exhaled shakily and let Belmont’s hand go with a last kiss. Trevor had only a moment to feel the loss of it and then the painter laid his cheek on the sculptor’s thigh. It was strangely comforting and Belmont instinctively stroked his hair. He is so accepting, the brunette thought, how did I ever think he could be a proud asshole? His heart is entirely too kind. It was worrisome to him and his protectiveness surged.

“Trevor, look at me,” Sypha said and he met her eyes. Fiercely intelligent awareness peered out of an endless blue. “Did you ask your parents to stop the forgery?”

The sculptor flinched and felt his temper rise. “Yes of course I did! I threatened to leave and never speak to them again! I told them I would rather lose everything but still have our pride than—”

“So,” Sypha said, calmly interrupting him, “you did everything in your power as a teenager to convince them to leave a business that was risky and a lifestyle that threatened their safety?”

I can see what you are trying to say but you don’t understand. “Damn it, Sypha,” Trevor started but she continued.

“Rather than the naturally logical conclusion that a perilous lifestyle they’d been leading for years had caught up with them, you decided that your one text to a family member led to their deaths?” Sypha looked at him. “Did you even ask your cousin if they told anyone?”

“You make it sound simple. It was a fucking mess!” Trevor said with bitter frustration. “No one would talk to me; no one would tell a 16-year-old kid anything. Social Services was on my ass, I had nothing and I couldn’t let them know that! I had to figure it out so fast—”

“I know, my love, and I am not saying you did anything wrong.” He could see it in her face and the understanding there was breathtaking. “I’m not. You came through this with more grace than anyone could ask.” Adrian nodded against his thigh.

Trevor swallowed hard, undone. “But the timing…” he whispered.

“Alright, the timing is bizarre, but so is the timing of your parents’ argument.” Sypha said and rubbed his hand absently. “Maybe when your mother said that the risk was getting higher, she didn’t mean because of your age, but because of something that had happened? Maybe because they’d tried to get out? Maybe their partner was demanding something they couldn’t give? There’s a million reasons why the timing could be what it was!”

Trevor just stared at her. These wounds were old. Sutured, compressed, scabbed and partially buried, he’d never really had the time or ability to cut out the infection, cleanse the wounds and sew them shut for a proper mend. There had been no time and then no inclination on his part, to try to look at them and make some sort of peace with it.

This is the first time he’s tried to tell anyone what really happened. He told the FBI everything except the content of their argument. There were no clues in it anyway and his shame had been too great. Once there’d been hope to talk about it with his family but every message he’d sent had remained unanswered. The one time he tried to physically approach his uncle, he’d been rebuked so bitterly that he never attempted contact ever again. He’d accepted he was alone and that it was his fault.

But here was this woman who loved him, who looked at him like there was something worth seeing and told him that maybe the greatest shame he’d ever known wasn’t his to carry. “She’s right, you know,” Adrian said quietly, tilting his head up to look at Trevor.

When Trevor opened his mouth, what came out shocked him. “I need to believe it was my fault. Otherwise, it means that my family abandoned me for no reason. That who I am was easy to let go. If they blamed me, at least there was a reason they let me disappear and never looked for me."

“Fucking assholes,” Adrian said vehemently, "Their loss; you are amazing." Trevor barked out a laugh even while his heart stumbled.

“You swore! I don’t think I’ve heard you swear since you called me a fucking disgrace in the cafeteria!” Trevor grinned at the memory. How angry, how gorgeous and how disdainfully annoyed Adrian had been.

“I didn’t understand,” the painter said, rearing back and looking at him with painful intensity. “I am sorry for what I said then. I had no right to say that and it was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

Warmth spread through Trevor and he reached out to that lovely face. Thank you, he thought and said it. “Thank you, but it's alright, really. You weren’t wrong about most of it, actually. Right down to the pie-fucker, although that I can explain.”

Adrian shook his head fiercely. “No. It’s not alright. You aren’t nobody, least of all to me. I shouldn’t have assumed any of it. If I had known you at all, I would know that you are spectacular. Your honor, your pride and your integrity would never be sacrificed for anything. They are such a deep part of you that no amount of money would tempt you to give them up.”

Incredibly touched, Trevor looked at the earnest certainty in Adrian’s face and smiled. “It’s funny you should say that,” Belmont murmured. “A friend of mine reminded me recently that, as an artist I sell parts of myself off all the time. That we are all for sale but it's my intentions in the process that are important. There’s this quote that I love that goes something like, ‘Being a professional artist is snipping bits of your skin off and selling it. It’ll—”

“Scab over and heal but it still hurts because it's your intimate self walking in the world.” Sypha finished for him.

“Yes!” Trevor said with a grin, “You’ve heard it too! Where—?” Sypha nudged her chin at Adrian and Belmont looked at the blonde. Adrian was covering his mouth with his hand and there was an odd expression on his face. “What?” he asked.

“That was Adrian. He said that.” Sypha said, grin huge.

You are fucking kidding me, Trevor thought, stunned. “No, really?! Ha! I must have read it in Xpose!” Adrian burst out laughing and shook his head. Okay, Trevor thought, it is funny. I’m quoting him to himself!

“Nope,” Sypha said with a snort, “that was in the student newspaper afterwards! You were creeping on Adrian after Xpose! Capital ‘T’ thirst there, lover!”

This is unbelievable, it’s like it was meant to be, he thought and was terribly amused. “Well yeah, I mean, did you see those pictures from that interview?" Adrian was cackling by now, tears streaming, and Sypha was nodding with a knowing smile. "The one of him leaning on the wall beside ‘mort din nou’? You don’t even want to know how many times I came—” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Adrian said, gasping with laughter, “did you say that you came to my picture?! Are you kidding me, seriously?!” You make it sound like it only happened once, Trevor thought.

Sypha retorted, “Trevor and half the campus, Adrian. I mean, come on, are you really that surprised?” The blonde’s eyes were huge and he nodded.

Really? Trevor thought, at the same time he accepted that it shouldn’t be a surprise that Adrian was oblivious.

“I’m not naked in that though!” The painter said, wiping his eyes and looking back at them. “I just look like me! I’m not even doing anything, just looking at the camera!” Trevor and Sypha looked at each other and then back at him.

“Yeah, you just look like you.” Trevor said. “Completely gorgeous—”

“Captivating,” Sypha chimed in.

“Haunting,” Trevor continued.

“Divine,” Sypha added.

“Perfect,” Trevor finished.

Adrian wasn’t laughing anymore but his eyes were aware and wide. “I’m not though.” His eyes slid helplessly to Sypha, “I’ve told you. You know how I really am. I’m always…” he looked pained and closed his eyes. “Inadequate.”

“How could you think that?” Trevor asked him fiercely, and Adrian fluttered helplessly.

“I am not saying this to be cruel Trevor, but what you thought about me in the beginning? Everyone thinks that.” Damn it, Trevor thought with dismay. Adrian continued, “I don’t belong anywhere, especially in my parent’s world. I never have. I am so privileged, I know that. I don’t lack for anything and I am loved. But…” he hissed in frustration.

“There is nothing that you aren’t judged on, that isn’t reflected back onto your family name. There is nothing that is just yours. Everything that I do," he ticked it off on long, slim fingers, “being an artist, saying something about a political party, attending a gala with a friend, wearing a ‘Black Lives Matter’ shirt, all of it, becomes about how I was raised, what my father’s opinion on the issue is, whether I am ‘being rebellious’ or not or if I am 'making a statement.'”

His snort was disgusted and annoyed. “It’s bad enough that I have to ask permission to be allowed to pay for my own things, but I cannot even have my own opinion without it belonging to him. No wonder he still sees me as a child. How can I grow up when the world wants me to be him?”

“Oh Addy, no,” Sypha said, stroking his hair.

Trevor knelt beside him. “I don’t want you to be him. Hell, I don’t even know him, and I know that. You know you said you shouldn’t have assumed? Me too, Adrian. I’m sorry for it, truly. When I look at you, I don’t see Alucard Tepes. I see Adrian, an incredible artist, my friend and the sexiest man I know." Trevor sighed, a rueful expression playing on his lips.

“Did your money and fame get in the way for me? Yep, it sure did.” Adrian winced and Trevor hurried on. “But you know what? That was my hang-up and my family, not yours. By you just being yourself, I got over it. You can’t help what people are going to think, but you can live your life authentically. And you are.” As Trevor spoke, he heard himself and understood that he wasn’t just talking to Adrian, he was talking to his own insecurities.

“People look at me and see my parents,” Trevor said. Adrian’s eyes were wounded and he started to shake his head. Trevor put his hand out and touched his cheek before he continued. “They look at you and see yours. They are wrong about both of us and it’s on them. You see me,” he looked over at Sypha and smiled, giving her his other hand. “Sypha sees me, and I am beginning to believe that is all I need. If we see each other, give that to each other, the rest can fall away.”

“To be clear,” Sypha cleared her throat. “I didn’t look at either of you and think of your parents. I did think about your dicks and how you’d use them though, so I am guilty of making snap judgements too. Just to be totally up front about that.”

Adrian snorted and Trevor grinned. “Actually, full disclosure, when I saw you too, in those cute leggings and the strawberry sweater? I wondered if those legs would look just as fabulous naked and around my waist.” His smile was satisfied. “They do, on both accounts.”

“I just thought you both were beautiful,” Adrian said. They turned to stare at him and he blushed. Trevor raised a brow and Sypha tapped her knee. “What?!" Adrian muttered. "I didn’t say I didn’t have those thoughts later.”

Oh yeah, ya did, Trevor internally crowed. “Exactly when did you have these thoughts and what were they?” he asked innocently and watched the painter’s face move comically from dismay, denial, amusement, lust and settle into embarrassment.

Adrian cleared his throat. “Umm, this morning?” Sypha’s eyes met Trevor’s and she was grinning victoriously. The painter continued, “And they were uh, the three of us?” Adrian’s eyes went huge. “Oh shit. Actually, ha ha, like fifteen minutes ago.”

“So who was fucking you?” Sypha asked and Adrian sighed.

“You mentioned pegging,” he mumbled and Sypha whooped.

“You owe me Belmont! I win!!!” Sypha leapt up and did a victory dance.

Trevor made a loud cough, and she froze. “I mean, I ugh…shit.”

Adrian was looking back and forth with dawning understanding. “You bet on who I wanted to have fuck me?” Trevor couldn’t tell what he was thinking from his voice and tried to play it cool.

“It was just for a laugh. It was more who you’d think of first. Whoever won could pay $5.00 or go down on the other for an hour.” An idea came to Trevor so abruptly and wonderful that he grinned. “Actually, about that—”

“Well the joke is on both of you then.” Adrian said, chin in the air. “Yes, I thought about Sypha pegging me when she mentioned it. But this morning, I woke up from a dream where Sypha was riding me and holding me down while you held my jaw and thrust into my mouth. So technically, you both were—”

“He wins,” Trevor said, mouth dry and cock at the ready.

“Oh yeah,” Sypha exhaled out in a whoosh. “Which reminds me, we need to talk consent and kinks.”

“Bottom says what,” Trevor said quickly.

“What?” Adrian asked her in amazement and Trevor smirked.

“Called it!” Trevor said.

To his utter surprise and delight, Adrian arched his eyebrow at Belmont and said, “I know a switch when I see one.” Holy shit, he’s— “I did some research Belmont; I know more than you think.” It was the most darling thing Trevor had ever heard. He pictured an earnest Adrian sitting at this table with his laptop and googling, ‘How to fuck a Belmont.’ It should have been laughable. It was blindingly hot.

“Excellent,” Sypha said and leaned over to take Adrian’s hand. “Let’s finish eating and negotiate then.”

The blonde stood and stretched his back out. Still seated, Trevor was eye level with his pants. That eyebrow came to him again. I know more than you think. The sculptor caught his hand halfway out to touch and leashed it back. Sypha and he had agreed. No one was fucking anyone without making sure boundaries were established.

I don’t want to hurt him, Trevor thought, and I want it to be good. He quashed his groan, watching the shirt press against Adrian’s lean frame. So fucking good. “So I'll start because I am easy. Unless you want me to wear a chicken costume, I am good with whatever,” the brunette said. “And depending on what sexual favors you’ll give me, I will wear the costume.”

Just as he hoped, Adrian laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind but as far as I know, that’s not a kink of mine.”

“Do you know what your kinks are?” Sypha asked smoothly as she picked up her wine.

Adrian’s smile wavered. “Ugh, not exactly. I have some guesses but I don’t know for certain of course.”

Sypha nodded calmly, “That’s perfectly understandable so we’ll need a safe word. “No” is usually workable, but we haven’t discussed kinks yet so I’m going to vote to choose something else just for complete clarity.”

“Pick an artist you can’t stand,” Trevor said drily, “it works well.” For some reason Adrian snickered.

“I know one. Styria,” he murmured and Trevor started. What? he thought, instantly thinking of next Friday's joint showing.

Carmilla Styria?” he choked out and Adrian nodded.

“Ewww, yeah, okay, that’s one I can agree with.” Sypha shuddered. “She’s such an egotistical bitch and her work is so overwrought. You say that in the middle of sex and it’s like instantly flaccid.” Adrian nodded sagely.

“I’ve never seen her work,” Trevor said and it was true. He’d intended to look her up at some point but hadn’t had a chance. Hadn’t worried about it. I trusted Hector, he thought with dismay. He made a mental note to go online as soon as possible. Maybe make a phone call to the gallery.

“She’s horrible,” Adrian said firmly. “But perhaps difficult to remember as a safe word, any suggestions otherwise?”

“Well, you know how I feel about Picasso, would that work?” Sypha said and both men nodded. “So Styria or Picasso, as safewords.” She said, “Great. Moving on: Consent and refusal. To be utterly clear, I have a high sex drive and it’s highly likely that at some point I will make advances that you are not interested in at the time.”

She held Trevor’s gaze and he knew she was protecting Adrian’s pride. I don’t expect him to be as sex-driven, Trevor remembered, and nodded slowly as she spoke. “Being told that you are not interested will in no way offend me. It is your body and you share it with me; I am not entitled to it. I don’t consider it rejection whatsoever to be told ‘no.’ I consider it courtesy.” She turned to the painter and continued. “I don’t force myself on people and I expect you to respect that by telling me when you don’t want to. That goes both ways and I expect you to understand that.”

Adrian nodded emphatically and said, “Yes, absolutely, I promise I would say something. You must as well.” She nodded.

“Without question, the same for me as well.” Trevor said. “I don’t get offended; I just go jerk off in the sh—”

“Uh huh, anyway,” Sypha said, giving him a withering look. What? I was just saying! He thought. “If you are interested in being with me but in a different capacity for example, being offered an alternative, foreplay with orgasm denial, cuddling, massage, hell, going for a walk, are all wonderful and welcome options. Please keep the lines of communication open and offer what you would like to.”

Ah, I see, Trevor thought guiltily and spoke up. “Yep, those are all awesome alternatives and I myself really love cuddles.” Adrian gave him a distinctly amused and exasperated look. The sculptor could almost see him thinking, yeah whatever. Trevor threw up his hands. “What?! I do! I am all about the cuddles and I love it! Do you know how often I got to cuddle before this year? Never! Ask Sypha, I love it!”

“He does actually, he isn’t making that up, it’s fabulous. As a bonus, he’s a furnace too, it’s great.” She said.

“Okay, I am sorry,” Adrian said with a sweet and hopeful smile. “That makes me very happy actually. I’d love to snuggle up and I’ve wondered what cuddling up to your chest would be like since our first kiss.”

Well come on over,” Trevor said and put out his arms gesturing toward his chest.

“Belmont, seriously, we aren’t done here. Hold on to the thought, please.” Sypha looked at him and he nodded in disappointment. She was right of course but he made a mental note to yank Adrian into his lap as soon as possible. Strictly for cuddles, he thought with wicked humor.

“I love to watch and I love to participate.” Sypha continued after taking a few bites of her meal. “If I am watching, I’m usually pleasuring myself but if that makes anyone—”

“Yes please,” Adrian said, fingers twisted in his napkin as he studied the ceiling. “And me too.”

“Hell yeah to it all,” Trevor said and smirked. The idea of seeing the two of them go at each other while he watched made his belly clench with anticipation. Watching Sypha wrap herself around the blonde’s long frame as Adrian thrust inside her and they moaned together. Watching her clamp her nails into that smooth skin and—

“I am not opposed to hair pulling, slapping anywhere but the face, and up to the point of bruising. I do not like biting to bleed or bruise, and absolutely do not like cutting. Teeth for nips, indents, even red marks, is fair game. I am happy to demonstrate if you are unsure.” Adrian shook his head and so did Trevor.

She continued. “Toys, fingers, cocks”—she paused, “and yes, that was intentionally plural; are welcome where ever they’ll fit. I don’t like being made to bleed or being called names and will most assuredly use the safe word in those circumstances. I like to command just as much as I like to beg.” Sypha took a sip of her wine.

The painter had given up all pretense of eating and was sitting back in his chair, napkin winding and unwinding. His breath was hard and his face rapt. Trevor happily munched away and watched the blonde stare at Sypha like he would swallow her whole. I definitely like to watch, he thought with a smile.

When the red head spoke again, there was eagerness in her voice. “If either of you prefer to be submissive or passive, I am more than happy to take charge. I’m good at it.”

Adrian hissed and shifted, clearly easing the constriction of his pants. Trevor completely understood. Sypha’s forthrightness was always hot. He’d heard this before but now he had images to accompany these words, memories of her commands and pleas. Now he could see what it was doing to Adrian, and it was incredibly erotic. “Restraints are more than welcome, whether its hands or something else, unless the surface is really abrasive and I need my balance. I never want to be choked out, but I am partial to a hand around my throat. Given the risks involved, this I will demonstrate. Trevor, could you please?”

“My pleasure,” he said and stood. Normally he would have shifted his aching cock to the side but when Adrian loosed a tiny moan and Sypha bit her lip, he decided this was more fun. When he reached her, Sypha looked up at him and her deep blue eyes told him she was just as caught up in how insanely sensual this was as well. Her eyes glittered like fresh snow under an endless sky and there was a vast depth of yearning in them.

He touched her lips, soft, warm with that slightly pouty bottom lip and dragged his fingertips down to her throat. He spread his hand against soft skin and trusting surrender. When he gripped her neck firmly, her pulse pounded against his palm and Trevor murmured, “Lover.”

“Lover,” she echoed back at him, longing and desire flushing her cheeks before her eyes slipped past him. He looked back at Adrian. The blonde had leaned forward in his chair, one hand painfully gripping the edge of the table, eyes fixed on them.

“Please,” Adrian whispered, innocently erotic invitation, “could you show me? On me?” Sypha gulped against his hand and Trevor’s cock twitched. What he could ask me for, Trevor thought, in that voice. The things I would do.

“Of course,” Trevor said and Sypha whimpered.

“Unfair,” she murmured and he grinned. He turned to Adrian and came around the edge of the table.

Enjoying the mounting anticipation, he came alongside the painter and then neatly stepped behind him. When he swept those long blonde tresses to the side, he fisted his hand in it and pulled gently. Adrian’s reaction to his hair being touched when they’d kissed before made Trevor virtually certain he would like this.

The throaty purr that the tug elicited from the TA made Trevor growl. There was lust, there was need and then there was this. Whatever it was he wanted from Adrian was steeped in such vital, pervasive, all-encompassing emotion that it was a little terrifying. Just like Sypha, he thought and felt disbelief he could need two people so much.

He wrapped his hand around a slim, strong throat that arched with acceptance against his palm and felt the door snap shut. He wasn’t one to believe in destiny but this was more than coincidence. The art sale, the quote, the scholarship, Sypha in his class, Adrian as his TA, the trio, this shared desire… the utter perfection of it, like dominoes into place. It was like this connection, this bond, had been waiting for him and sending flares out into his universe. Pounding on the doors to his heart and telling him to be honest, to trust. To love.

Damn it, he thought, looking down at the man under his hands. Who was I kidding, I loved him before I ever met him. I love him just as much as I want him. Trevor wanted inside Adrian so badly he was ready to beg. To truly beg.

Your honor, your pride and your integrity would never be sacrificed for anything. Trevor had to smile, even as he despaired. Never say never, he thought and watched as those insane golden eyelashes fluttered. “It would be a little different if I was facing you from the top or bottom but this should give you an idea. Something you’d like to try?” He worked to keep his tone reasonable and not the demanding entreaty he wanted it to be. He loved that Sypha enjoyed this. Trevor wasn’t interested in hurting her or anyone for that matter but there was a trust, a surrender to this that was incredibly beautiful and erotic. If both of them liked it, well…

“Yes, I think we can add this to the ‘most definitely’ column,” Adrian said with a catch to the words when Trevor released him. “I like how you hold my face or my hair when you kiss me. I like to be held.” He caught himself. “Um, do you?”

Trevor smiled, “I’ve yet to encounter a kink I don’t like,” he stated smoothly and added, “and you aren’t wrong about the switch, if you are so inclined.” It was intensely pleasing to see Adrian bite his lower lip and think about it. I’ll take you any way you want it and take anything you want to give, Trevor added silently. He’d told Sypha the same thing and it’d been bliss to discover how well matched they were.

“This is a perfect segue way for the last item I wanted to touch on tonight,” Sypha said smoothly as Trevor returned to his seat. “I would like it clear between all of us that there will be times that two of us may want to peel off into a couple for activities. It could be anything from going to a movie to sex. Given that—”

Surprisingly, Adrian interrupted her. “I understand that, Sypha, and I fully expect that you and Trevor would need time to yourselves.” The painter’s smile was tender. “There is no resentment or concern on my part.” He picked up his fork again.

Sypha looked at Trevor and he arched a brow. She grinned and looked back at the painter. “Uh, Adrian?”

He looked up from the salmon he was collecting on his fork with an absent, “Mmm?”

“Has it occurred to you that I might be talking about you with me?” Sypha asked him. “As in, I might want to just spend time with you, like we have for the last year?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I meant more—” Adrian started and Trevor cut in.

“Or that I might want you all to myself so we can practice cuddling?” Adrian softened and gave him a happy smile. Let’s be really honest here, Trevor thought. “Or that I might want to have you under me and wailing just for me as I fuck you on this table?” Adrian’s hand crept up to his throat and Trevor ached all over again. “Maybe I’m feeling possessive and I only want you to beg for me. For my touch. For my tongue. Maybe your orgasm is just for me today.”

“As long as I get dibs on him and the counter tomorrow,” Sypha finished with a cheeky wink. “After all, I am behind in kisses, we need to at least stay equal on orgasms.”

“You both, um, want to have sex with just me?” Adrian said, confused. Trevor’s exasperation warred with his intense need to show the blonde just how much he wanted to have sex with ‘just Adrian.’

“What part of me touching you in your studio involved Sypha? Or in the hallway for that matter?” Trevor asked him and didn’t wait for an answer. “Adrian, I told you, I can’t breathe but to want you. That goes for fucking you and cuddling you and anything else that comes up.” Inspiration struck. “This trio is an equal partnership of desire. This is not Trevor and Sypha invite Adrian to play. It never was. Ask Sypha. The first time she and I had sex, we agreed on that before we even touched each other.”

“Really?” Adrian whispered, and looked at her.

“I swear it.” She told him. “Trevor is not kidding. The trio was always the end game. Sexually, emotionally, physically, relationship-wise. It was always the plan. The three of us are more together than we are separate in all areas of our lives, not just sex. Yes, there are pairings within it, but the trio is the foundation. For example, unless I am mistaken, Trevor would not care to look at boots for two hours with us.”

Trevor shuddered and made a face. “Hell no. Two hours? How many pairs does a person need? I mean—” He looked at Adrian who was studiously not looking at him. Wait, this is the man who wears a different pair every time I see him. Yeah, but they are all black, surely they can't all be different… He looked at the rising color on the blonde’s cheeks. Trevor sighed. “I’ll remember to carry one of my novels with me at all times.”

“As an added bonus, think about him wearing nothing but his thigh-highs,” Sypha said calmly and Trevor choked on his salad. It was too late; he could see it and it was gorgeous.

“Add a new kink to my list,” Adrian murmured happily and Trevor’s cough turned into a roar of laughter. Sypha looked satisfied.

“I may have thought about it myself,” she said and stroked a fingertip over her lip. “Anyway, as I was saying, it’s simple enough for most activities to request space and time without confusion. For sexual activities, given the spontaneity of such things I was going to propose an open-door policy. If you’d welcome the involvement of a third, even if it’s just voyeuristic, you leave the door open. If you wouldn’t, you close it. If you are in a public area perhaps—” She paused. “It occurs to me that I was thinking of this in relation to when we are living together. For now—”

“If I might interrupt?” Adrian asked and Sypha nodded. “I was, that is I had been thinking for the last hour, but it might be too soon or too much and if you don’t—”

“Here?” She interrupted him with a smile and he grinned. I don’t understand, Trevor thought, looking between them.

She turned to Trevor, “Last year, Adrian had asked me if I wanted to live here with him.”

“Now I am asking you too,” Adrian said softly. “There is plenty of space, especially if you would like to share a room with Sypha.” Holy shit, Trevor thought, excited anticipation warring with hesitant uncertainty and pride. “Also, um, eventually that is, if you wanted to share a room with me.” Trevor groaned under his breath. “Either of you.” Adrian took a breath. “Both of you.”

---

I was alone, I never knew
What good love could do
Then we touched, then we sang
About the loving things
All night, all night
Oh, every night
So hold tight, hold tight
Ooh baby, hold tight
Any way you want it
That's the way you need it
Any way you want it

-“Any Way You Want It,” Journey

Notes:

Trevor has an idea in the next chapter that is going to be *fabulous* and I am ready for it. Are you?

Chapter 20: I want you to show me

Summary:

“Yep, I clearly am not getting off on watching how glorious you look pleasured by touching me. Not me, noooo way, I got this hard just because I love salmon. ” Trevor muttered and Tepes found he could grin. He took a breath.

“But wouldn’t you like to watch me touch you?” the blonde asked him and Belmont actually whimpered. The sound made Adrian feel powerful and he was a little bolder. “I could use my mouth, but you’ll need to tell me what to do.” Trevor’s eyes pinned him under blue flames, not unlike the welding torch the sculptor used to create his art.

“I want that. I want you. I can’t seem to explain to you how much.” Adrian’s desire flared. Trevor continued, “I had an idea though and I think it’s a good one. Want to hear it?”

Notes:

Nov 29 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Infinite possibility stretched out in front of Adrian. It was as though he’d been admiring the sky in a puddle and decided he wanted to splash in it. Stepping into it is a discovery that it's actually an ocean filled with everything he could ever need and he could swim for eternity. The things that Trevor had told him, all that Sypha had outlined, built into this overwhelming bridge of understanding that linked them together in an undeniable path.

If his heart had hands, it would have both of them securely clasped into its chambers and building them houses in there. The trio had always been the end game. They’d both wanted him from the beginning. Not just his name, his work, or his connections, but a relationship, his innermost self, his desires. The most basic aspects of him.

Even the unknown ones, he thought with anticipation and trepidation. It was hard to say which was greater in him right now; gratitude that these two incredible people somehow found him as erotic as he found them, or fear that he might break that illusion. He hadn’t been joking about doing research. Adrian believed in education and arming yourself with knowledge. It made him feel more in control and helped with his anxiety.

Neither of them had mentioned his inexperience, although Sypha knew. It was a blessing and a curse that she did. But Belmont might not. He was fairly certain Trevor had guessed though, as the sculptor had always been incredibly gentle touching him. He might have thought that was Trevor’s default, except for the intense possession he’d heard in Belmont’s voice when he’d suggested that Adrian’s orgasm might just be for him, or the tastes of dark passion that had edged into their kisses.

He was certain of it, when Trevor had his hand wrapped around the painter’s throat. Adrian could feel his desire in the tension of his fingers and the subtle rasp of his breath. The blonde swallowed hard. It was exciting but also daunting to be wanted that much. To hope to fulfill such a thing. But he wanted to try. Here was that opportunity and it started with this invitation.

There had been no question of wanting to live with Sypha, he’d wanted that eight months ago, but it would cost her to break her lease and they’d agreed to wait. It was coming up in less than a month now and he knew she'd told them that she'd be moving out. Tepes’ would bet money that Trevor’s was a month-to-month. Furthermore, Adrian wanted him out of there. He wanted him here and he wanted to become part of Trevor’s life.

If Adrian was honest with himself, he’d thought about it before. The three of them here in his apartment, living and loving alongside each other. Perhaps it was the understanding, the safety, or the care that had been waiting in Belmont’s hand when he’d placed it against the blonde’s throat, but something inside of Adrian had settled into acceptance and he knew he would ask before the evening was through. I love him, I trust him and I want to be with him, he thought. If he is here, all of this becomes simpler.

“Now I am asking you too,” Adrian said softly. “There is plenty of space, especially if you would like to share a room with Sypha. Also, um, eventually that is, if you wanted to share a room with me. Either of you.” Adrian took a breath. “Both of you.” Trevor’s face was a whirlwind of emotion and the painter plowed on.

“I don’t expect an answer right now of course, that isn’t fair. I have thought about this before and it’s not a snap decision.” Insofar as I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you two, he added on silently. “I want you to know that I actually already moved my studio into the exercise space to free up an extra room. It wasn’t a big deal to do, I had only spread out anyway because I figured I might as well. I have the guest room of course and there’s already a queen bed in there but there is now the empty—”

“What will you do when you have guests though?” Trevor interrupted softly and Adrian sighed.

“This is so embarrassing to admit because it’s hardly a ringing endorsement for moving in, but I don’t. Ever. I had it set up for when my parents came to visit and they’ve never stayed here, they stay in the hotel on the other side of campus.”

Trevor’s face grew stormy. “No disrespect, truly,” the brunette said carefully, “But having your folks stay here seems like something that would matter to you. I saw you cooking. You like entertaining and you like making a home; don’t you?” The painter felt his heart melt a little more, even as he flushed. Adrian wished his pale skin didn’t give him away so easily. Although it only ever seemed to be an issue with those I love, he reflected.

“I do, you are very perceptive," he admitted. "I… value what a home is. My parents gave me a lovely home and a lovely life, it was just… different.” He felt his fingers in his hair and forced himself to stop wringing them. He hid them under the table and twisted the ends of his napkin instead.

“If it matters to you, I would like to think that they would make the effort.” Trevor said gently but firmly.

Belmont’s protectiveness was a comforting sweater. With a vibrating cock ring, the blonde thought, as his desire responded to the possessive thread in Trevor's tone. Focus, he reminded himself and spoke again. “It’s not like that. They would stay here but my father’s security team would have to sleep on the floor and the spare room. They'd have to share a bathroom. He treats them like family. He would never ask them to be that cramped and uncomfortable. It’s actually sweet.”

"One night of them on the floor wouldn’t be that big of a deal, given what it would mean," Trevor murmured. "At the very least, tell me that they’ve come for supper?”

“I have made my mother supper here twice, but you know who my father is. He’s very busy and very important, it’s just...” Adrian felt embarrassment rise up and worked his way through it. He believed that honesty was always best. “I’m making excuses,” the blonde admitted. “I hear it. You don’t have to say it.” The understanding on Trevor’s face made it easier. He didn’t push Adrian and the painter felt gratitude. “I promise I’ll explain it better, later; I’m not avoiding the topic but I don’t want to get side-tracked from the reasons I would like you to consider moving in here.”

Sypha smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. Adrian continued, “As I said, I actually already moved things around so there are two empty or essentially empty rooms. I left the bed because I know Sypha has that double, but she’s slept on the queen once and—” His best friend interrupted him excitedly and he grinned. It was a good thing; his throat was dry and he took a swallow of his wine.

“It’s an orgasm to sleep on,” the digital artist was saying. “It’s like one of those firm but soft deals and it’s literally amazing. He got it for his parents and let me tell you, they are missing out. I’ve told him I would leave most of my furniture for the twins or donate it but, well—shit! Sorry Addy, go ahead, I’m just excited!” She gave him a rueful look and he shook his head.

“No, actually, you should speak! You’ll remember what’s important to the person moving in better than I will,” he protested. It’s easier for you, you’re better at speaking about things than I am, he thought. You don’t get flustered.

But she wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “Nope, you got this. I promise I’ll add in anything that I think you’ve missed at the end.” Her smile was sweet but her eyebrow told him that she knew what he was thinking. He couldn’t help his sheepish grin. She knows me too well.

“Okay, well, umm, let’s see. I would consider this our home, not ‘Adrian’s home that you live in.’ I’d be happy to incorporate any of your items into the space and/or take down or reconfigure anything that doesn’t work for you. We can paint your rooms or…” You sound like a property manager, he thought helplessly. He stole a glance at Trevor and couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Anyway, we could redecorate.” the painter blushed harder, “You could pick whatever room you want or we could— I feel ridiculous,” he said abruptly and looked away. “I’ve never asked anyone to live with me except Sypha and that was as my roommate. We can still do that if it’s simpler, if that’s what you’d like.”

Trevor cleared his throat and Adrian was suddenly sure he was going to refuse. No, please, I need you, he thought with panic. We need you. His head snapped back around and he gazed at Trevor with naked hope and fear. “I am doing this wrong, all wrong!” he said. “What can I say that would convince you? I just want you here. Both of you. Please?”

Trevor raked his hand through his hair. “Adrian, this is an amazing offer. I’m unbelievably humbled… but I-I might not be good at this. I have hang-ups.” Trevor’s laugh was stilted. “You don’t know me that well, and I am not an easy person to be with.”

Yes I do, the painter thought, and yes you are. “We’ve managed alright,” he said instead and Belmont snorted. “Okay!” Adrian admitted, “It started out badly, but aren’t you happy where we are right now?”

Trevor’s face melted into such joy that it was simply dazzling. “Yes.” He said simply. “Yes, I really am. Alright, Adrian, yes, I would love to live with you.” He looked at Sypha. “With both of you.”

The redhead stood and went to Belmont. She slid into his lap and took his mouth, murmuring, “The best of men. You’re so good to us. I love you so.” He groaned against her mouth and licked into her lips. Her tongue met his and Adrian abruptly realized he was biting his knuckle and openly staring.

It’s rude to gawk, he thought and wondered how the open door was supposed to work in times like this. He started to look away, but Sypha broke the kiss. When she stood, Trevor smacked her ass and stood with her. The painter gulped, trying to ignore the twitch in his cock from the smack. I should show them their room, he thought and stood as well.

“I imagine you’d like to see—” he started to say and Sypha stepped into him, twining her arms around his neck. The scent of fresh flowers and earth in the heat of the midday sun plumed up against his face and he inhaled deeply. There was a faintly rich scent too, but infused with such vibrancy that it danced across his skin. It was familiar, comforting and deeply sensual to him. I just want to eat that scent up, swallow it down like ice cream and taste it on my tongue for hours, he thought.

“Oh yes I would,” she said, “but first I’d like to kiss you, if that is alright?” It’s always alright, he thought and nodded. Gentle fingertips touched his cheek and a firm thumb traced under his jaw. There was such competence in her touch, it left him weak. Wanting.

"Adrian? You have to come to me, your lips are currently too far away,” she said and he jerked.

“I’m sorry, I’m so stupid,” he muttered and bent down. The thumb tightened on his throat and his eyes flew to hers.

That blue, so sharp and clear it might have been chips of labradorite, peered up at him with an endless tenderness. “Don’t say that about my Adrian. He’s a good man and does incredible things that humble and awe me constantly. He’s sexy and kind and smart and talented.” His moan was unexpected and softly erotic, even to him.

She stroked over his lips and the painter trembled. She spoke in an almost whisper. “I love you very much you know. I want only kindness for you, even from yourself.”

“I love you too, Sypha, more than you’ll ever know,” he whispered, lost in her. If I could only show you, he thought, and tried. Hesitant, soft strokes down her spine drew her into him until she pressed snugly into his chest and he bent to her lips. It was shock and arousal to discover traces of Trevor on her lips. Then it was joy. This is what they taste like together, he thought and was staggered by it. These were his beloveds, his housemates, and soon, his lovers.

Trevor’s heat and flash was channeled and tempered by Sypha’s warm comfort and vivacity. There was a sweetness edged to the whole thing that spoke of infinite promise. Adrian slipped the tip of his tongue into her mouth, seeking to taste the three of them together. When she nipped it, he gasped, and she fisted his hair.

“I just want to taste your neck,” she murmured, urging his head back. Yes please, he thought, feeling his pulse hammer in his throat like an invitation to her mouth and then her lips were there. His exhale was harsh and his hands on her spine flexed into needy claws. It feels divine, he thought.

She licked up his jugular and then scraped her teeth down lightly. His choked request of, “Harder. Please,” startled him and her fist tightened in his hair. This shouldn’t turn you on so much, his brain told him while his dick cheerfully told it to shut the fuck up, Captain Cock was in charge. Sypha’s teeth sunk into the side of his neck and Adrian whimpered.

I think I might like a bit of pain with my pleasure, he thought and couldn’t even feel ashamed. Instead, he felt like he was learning how to walk on water and there was something unfathomably thrilling in the mist ahead. It was calling his name and he wanted nothing more than to answer it.

“Fuck, you are so responsive it’s addictive,” Sypha muttered and bite him again, just a touch harder. Bliss tumbled from her mouth, dripping golden grains of pleasure into his belly. Dimly, he was aware of Trevor moving alongside them and then felt the sculptor take his hand.

The pleasure vaulted skyward when he felt his fingertips in Trevor’s mouth; sharp teeth scraping as the sculptor suckled. His eyes flew open, seeking Belmont and the blonde realized he was on the verge of panting.

Trevor had his hand around Adrian’s wrist and the other under the hem of Sypha’s dress. Right at the moment when the painter belatedly grasped that he was taking all the pleasure instead of sharing it, Sypha slid her hand over the front of his pants.Sypha, he gasped and thrust against her. He was absurdly aroused and her touch was like lighting in a midnight sky, igniting his lust toward an explosive release.

I’m too close, he thought with dismay and dread briefly overrode his desire. I can’t disappoint them, he thought and managed words. “Wait, wait,” he gasped out. Sypha paused, and Trevor stilled.

“I—” Just fucking say it, he thought, and had to close his eyes. “I’m stupidly close to coming,” he said weakly and made himself face the disenchantment. But when he opened his eyes, he saw two very satisfied faces. It confused him.

“Now would be a great time for me to mention that we don’t need condoms,” Sypha purred, and his jaw dropped. “We’re both clean and I have an IUD,” she finished with distinct relish. Holy fuck I can…

Trevor licked the painter’s finger and said, “I call dibs.”

Sypha hissed, “No fucking fair Belmont!! If you think—”

“Dibs?” Adrian asked and watched Trevor’s slow, sensual grin. The sculptor arched a brow and started to kneel.

Awareness flooded Tepes. “Oh shit, oh my lord, no, you don’t understand, I meant like, we should stop. I should, I mean I want to— I haven’t done anything for you!” Thank heavens I didn’t major in English, the painter thought with despair.

“Adrian, it doesn’t work like that,” Sypha said gently and turned to Belmont. Doesn’t it? the blonde thought. Trevor looked confused for a moment and then he took Adrian’s finger out of his mouth and rose back up.

Eyes on the painter, he slowly brought the blonde’s hand down to the front of his cargo pants. The painter’s eyes followed. “Feel how hard I am, Adrian, seriously. Watching you, touching you, pleasuring you? It is incredible; it gives me pleasure.”

What? I don’t understand; I haven’t even touched you, the blonde thought and then Trevor pressed his hand gently forward. The painter had been astride Belmont aroused before and the sculptor had ground up against him semi-aroused in the kitchen. This was something else. “Fuck me.” Adrian said with wonder and a little concern. Belmont groaned and rocked against his palm.

“I would be happy to,” Sypha said with a little murmur, “as would he. ”

The painter bit his lip. How would that even work though; he feels unreasonably big, Adrian thought with uneasiness and tried to remember the things Sypha had said about relaxing and breathing. What his research had suggested was possible. What his body was telling him he wanted.

“That we should definitely talk about first, but yes, hell yes, I do,” Trevor said with a decidedly husky tone. The painter relaxed marginally. Belmont wasn’t expecting him to instinctively know what to do. They would discuss it first. Worry yielded to desire. The heat of Belmont seeped into Tepes’ palm. It was like holding cooling steel; warm, hard but yielding.

I wonder if he’d like this, Adrian thought, and carefully curled his fingernails to scrape over the fabric around the rigid tip. Belmont inhaled sharply and the blonde licked his lips, entranced.

“Yep, I clearly am not getting off on watching how glorious you look pleasured by touching me. Not me, noooo way, I got this hard just because I love salmon. ” Trevor muttered and Tepes found he could grin. He took a breath.

“But wouldn’t you like to watch me touch you?” the blonde asked him and Belmont actually whimpered. The sound made Adrian feel powerful and he was a little bolder. “I could use my mouth, but you’ll need to tell me what to do.” Trevor’s eyes pinned him under blue flames, not unlike the welding torch the sculptor used to create his art.

“I want that. I want you. I can’t seem to explain to you how much.” Adrian’s desire flared. Trevor continued, “I had an idea though, and I think it’s a good one. Want to hear it?”

Adrian nodded and Trevor smiled. “Sypha?” he asked and looked over. “Read my fucking mind,” he hissed passionately and the painter followed his gaze. His jaw dropped and his mind blanked out amidst the massive implosion of his self-control.

Earlier, he’d thought her sunflower sundress was charming. The row of flower buttons that dipped down front and the black lace hem were both sweet little details that kept it from being too cutesy. Unfastened now, with navy lace peeking out, the buttons weren’t endearing. The tiny flowers were heralds of welcome to soft swells of skin he wanted to lick over. The black lace on the hem was erotic frame to curved, white legs that splayed wide in the dining room chair. Between her thighs was her hand, moving in slow, steady strokes as they watched.

Adrian’s control slipped around like lubed feet on a skating rink. Just let me, he thought, I could… You are kidding yourself, his anxiety retorted, you have no idea how to touch her.

She arched her brow. “I did say I liked to pleasure myself while I watch,” she said.

“Makes you want to get on your knees, doesn’t she?” Trevor asked him, eyes locked on Sypha.

“Yes,” Adrian managed, unable to take his eyes off of the movement of her hands. I want to taste her. To set my mouth against her thigh and lick down until I—he thought and Trevor clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Good, because I lost the bet remember? And since it was kinda your fault, you’re gonna help me.” What?! Adrian thought with excitement and anxiety. For a moment he wondered if he’d voiced his internal monologue.

“Trevor,” Sypha began, withdrawing her hand and shifting forward. Even in the midst of his turbulent emotions, Adrian was very aware of his disappointment that the skirt shadowed his view. Go down for an hour… he thought with spiraling craving that ballooned inside his limbs and made him buoyant. Then he remembered Sypha’s annoyance with terrible oral. Fuck, he thought, torn. He wanted to but he didn’t know what he was doing. I don’t want to fail her like her other partners did.

He tuned back into the conversation and realized that the two artists were communicating with a bunch of facial expressions. “What are you saying?” he asked, abruptly feeling like a child caught between two parents who were trying to have a private conversation within his earshot.

Sypha winced and answered him. “I’m sorry, that was rude and I, we, didn’t mean to cut you out. To be blunt, I didn’t know Trevor was going to suggest this and I—I don’t want to pressure you. I wanted to focus on you…the first time.”

Adrian was touched that she’d worry, but frustrated by his own inexperience. Even she wasn’t sure he could do this. “Please don’t," he sighed sadly. "Don’t try to manage me like I can’t make a decision for myself. Am I nervous?” He rubbed his face, “Yes, okay, I am nervous and I fucking hate it and I just—”

“Sypha, give us some time here please,” Trevor said. “Go to the bedroom. Get comfortable, and if you know where to find something suitable, blindfold yourself.”

“Trevor,” she said again and the sculptor gave her a look. Adrian felt his lips twitch; ordering Sypha to do anything was a crapshoot. Surprisingly she went, looking back as she left the room. Adrian looked at Trevor and the brunette pulled up a chair and sat.

“I’m gonna tell you something I’ve never told anyone,” the sculptor said without preamble and tapped his knee.

“You want me to sit on your lap?” the painter asked incredulously while simultaneously thinking, Yes please. Preferably naked and I’ll just bounce around. On your—

“Oh wait, hang on.” Trevor stood, shrugged off his T-shirt and then sat down again. “Snuggles, remember?” Look at that chest, it’s like my own personal cuddle altar to worship at and I just want to lick every—

“Less staring, more snuggling. Now, Legs,” Trevor said and opened his arms.

Adrian started to perch on his knee, doing his best to not blush and feeling somewhat absurd as he tried to figure out how to fold himself in. Trevor simply scooped him up like he weighed a stack of portfolios and settled him against his chest, wrapped up in his arms. “You are so strong, it’s really hot and kind of alarming,” the painter blurted out.

Trevor paused. “I would never hurt you,” he said seriously.

The blonde smiled and shyly put out his hand to touch the black crest. “Maybe just a little? You apparently figured out that I am partial to spanking. Which I didn’t realize myself, so thank you. I think.”

Trevor’s hand drifted towards Adrian’s ass. “Let me rephrase that then. I would always respect the safe words.” The blonde smiled. There’d never been a doubt of that for him.

“I trust you. I know that,” he answered happily and put his cheek against Belmont’s warm shoulder. Home, he thought. Trevor’s wide palm settled against the curve of his ass and he squeezed firmly. I wonder if I could take one or two of his fingers, the painter thought abruptly and clenched in response. I just might be—

“My first time was not pretty,” Trevor said and Adrian instantly came back to the present. Was nothing easy or kind to Trevor in his life? Tepes wondered, anguished. The blonde stirred and murmured unhappily.

“I won’t get into the details right now but I should have known better,” Trevor sighed. “The moment was wrong and it was not the right partner. I did it anyway. I was left with some really ugly feelings about it and a healthy dose of fear.”

No, Adrian thought, a bad taste rising in the back of his mouth, please no. “Trevor, did someone hurt you?” he asked and looked up. The brunette sighed again, deeper.

“That’s a complicated answer, Adrian and I can’t—I don’t want to ruin the mood. Fuck it, I am doing this all wrong.” He stroked the painter’s back and Adrian gave into the touch with melting surrender. “I was telling you this because I wanted to tell you about my second time. About learning with the right person. Maybe I’ll just skip ahead.”

Belmont looked at him. “Listen, Sypha and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. I saw your face when you saw what she was doing. You want to touch her, to share her pleasure, and give her pleasure. I think I have a way for you to do that without any pressure.” He continued to stroke down his back and the painter leaned into that wonderful, firm palm.

“I did some reading, but I know she’s experienced and I know she has expectations and she’s been frustrated in the past and I just—” Adrian could feel his panic creeping in and stealing the lovely calm of Trevor’s caresses.

“Wait a minute, hold up, shhh.” Belmont kissed him, slow and deep. Exhilaration seeped into the blonde’s bones. He knew how wonderful these kisses were and how much Trevor enjoyed them too. This he could do without worrying. Trevor’s fingertips eased through the tips of his hair to find the back of his neck and stroked gently. Love shimmered like a setting sun over the ocean inside Adrian and he melted into his lover.

With an easy smile, Trevor broke the kiss and continued to stroke the back of his neck. “What if she didn’t know if it was you or me?” The blonde blinked and thought, What? How?

“That’s why I wanted the blindfold. She won’t be able to see and I’m thinking we can even tie up her hands so she can’t touch. She likes that, so it’ll only add to her pleasure. We’ll tie back your hair so she can’t feel it and we will both touch her.” Anticipation and lust unfurled like a cat stretching in the sun inside of the painter’s belly. This might work, he thought, but what if I—

“I will be right there.” Trevor continued and Adrian released the breath he was holding. “If you are worried, you can hold up one finger and I’ll nod yes or no to let you know if I think it’s going well. I give you my word; I will be honest. Two fingers and we switch out, but I will switch back after a couple of minutes. Three fingers means you are good and I will sit back and watch.” Trevor grinned, “I'll just take off my pants and stay a while.”

Adrian snorted and bit his lip. “She doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.” He swallowed and hated his self-doubt. “I’m afraid she won’t tell me because of it. Won’t tell me that I am not good.”

Trevor’s face was understanding and he nodded. “I get it, I really do. That’s the beauty of this though. You and I don’t speak, and she is blindfolded. Believe me, you’ll get an honest response. You’ve seen her with me, so you know she’ll speak up if she wants something.”

That’s true, she is very forceful with him. The stretching cat grew into a lion with fangs and claws. Maybe she’ll be forceful with me. Buck into my face, wrap her legs around me, tell me exactly how she wants me to touch her. The painter’s exhale was not steady.

“You mentioned guidance and I have some tips for you, if you want them.” Trevor said and kneaded the blonde’s shoulder lightly.

Adrian nodded eagerly and whispered, “Yes please. She spoke highly of you; said that you had stamina and were through.”

Trevor chuckled, “You are both so good for my ego, it’s going straight to my head. Well, both of them actually.” The painter snickered.

“So oral. It takes some getting used to, but it can be addictive.” He licked his lips, “Especially Sypha. Once you go down, you don’t want to come up until she does, believe me.” Adrian’s breath caught in his throat and he ached to try, to taste, to know.

“Okay so, start slow and work your way into it. There is no fucking rush. Porn lies; it takes time to do it right, especially starting off with a new partner. Honestly, that is half the fun, learning what they like.” Trevor’s hand settled against Adrian’s collarbone and he pressed gently, blue eyes on the painter’s golden ones. “Discovering how much you like to give it to them.”

With a flash of insight, Adrian understood that Trevor was talking to himself just as much as he was talking to the blonde. In a way, he is telling himself to go slowly with me, Tepes thought and remembered the impression of burning passion in their first kiss. Someday I want to taste that heat without any restraint or concern, he thought.

“Explore fearlessly.” Trevor continued, eyes sliding down to Adrian’s throat. “While you are, listen to her. Her breath, the way her hips move, when her thighs try to close, these are all cues that let you know if it's good, if you should go faster, what she likes. We are both very lucky because Sypha is amazingly good at giving cues. She’ll literally say, “faster, harder, yes, right there.” Trevor stopped and grinned. “Feeling up to this are you?”

Adrian reddened and ducked his head. His cock was pressing insistently against Trevor’s bicep and he just realized he’d been rocking slightly into that muscular swell. “I am imagining how it could be, what I want to give her,” he admitted.

The sculptor groaned and put his forehead against Adrian’s. “I understand completely,” he said and shifted just enough that the painter could feel his cock, hard, ready and eager against his hip. “Let’s just say, I’ve thought the same about both of you and more than once. I have one more tip though. Last one.”

I’ve thought about it too, the blonde reflected and wiggled against Trevor’s cock experimentally. The sculptor’s hands tightened for a moment. “The tip?” The painter asked, and rocked slowly into the cock steadily hardening against his ass.

“I was thinking the whole thing, but we could start with the tip and work— oh, wait, you mean the suggestion for Sypha. Ah, yeah, um…” Adrian laughed, gratified with what appeared to be a genuine loss for words on the part of the sculptor. The painter wasn’t the only one that happened to evidently, and it made him feel better.

Trevor shook his head like there was water in his ears and then perked up. “Right! So, giving someone else an orgasm? It’s really no different than when you’re touching yourself. You start off slow and usually end with a hand cramp.” Belmont grinned. “That’s when you know you’ve done it right.”

I can do this, Adrian thought. He understands and he won’t let me fail. “You won’t leave though, right?” The painter asked anxiously. “I am excited about this, but I want to know that she won’t be left wanting. I need to know that she’s been taken care of… if I can’t, if I don’t—"

“I promise that won’t happen; you have excellent instincts so trust them. Sypha is not shy about what she wants, just listen to her. But helllll no; I am not leaving. Not for anything, unless you want me to. Actually, we should have a signal—” Adrian shook his head fiercely.

“No, really. We don’t need one, I want you there. I feel better about it.” He managed to smile. “You're my wingman.”

Trevor kissed his cheek and drew back. “I want to be there too. Not because you need me, but because I promise that by the end of this, more than one person will have come because of you.”

---

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me
In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
Can't stop now, I've traveled so far
To change this lonely life
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

-"I Want to Know What Love Is," Foreigner

Notes:

Just how much orgasm denial can ya'll take?

I'm kidding, I'm posting the other one literally right now. Please don't hurt me.
---
Sypha photo from @a_krivitskiy (Twitter) via Pexals. Trevor photo unknown model (thanks for nothing, Pinterest). Adrian is Emil Andersson.

Chapter 21: Reach out and touch faith

Summary:

She thought about Adrian under the lights in the studio and moaned. “Fuck, I am wet just thinking about him.” So think about him, she thought and moved to the bed with the tie in her hand. Pulled back the covers and shivered as she slid over them. Imagined him in them naked and thinking of her. Sypha could smell him on the fabric and felt her nipples peak in response. I want you, she thought, I want you to want me too. I want this to be good for you.

Sypha lay there for a moment, the moonlight streaming through the window onto the bed, the quiet warm light of the lamps turning the room into a cozy, secretive dream. She looked at the painting of the hand pressed into the flowering flesh and yearned. Let’s bloom together, she thought. As she tied her blindfold in place, she heard Adrian laugh and her heart eased. Tonight, my love, we become your lovers.

Notes:

Nov 30 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha took her time. Whatever Belmont was doing involved sitting down, she’d seen him pull out the chair as she’d left. I handled that poorly, she thought with regret. She’d seen the resignation in Adrian’s face when he’d realized that they were having a silent argument behind his back. Treating him like a child, she thought with disgust.

It was dumb and stupid, but Trevor had come out of left field with his suggestion. Every time they’d talked about this before they’d agreed that Adrian would be the focus of their attention the first time. Obviously, Belmont thought differently now and she wasn’t sure why.

When he’d guided the painter’s hand to his cock, she’d thought for sure that he was making the point as to why pleasuring Adrian was gratifying for them. She agreed with it and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to show her best friend how much she enjoyed watching too. How pleasure could be shared by more than touching.

She’d known that Adrian would worry about the give and take. It was his natural inclination to give far more than he would ask for and she wanted to make sure that he was as relaxed and satisfied as possible before he tried to offer things that might be more than he was actually up for.

It isn’t that I am nervous, she thought as she opened Adrian’s closet and looked for the ties. No, I’ve had oral before, dozens of times. Just not from Adrian, my best friend, whom I’ve pined after for— She closed her eyes and leaned up against the door frame. Okay, I am nervous, she thought unhappily. Nerves help no one and Adrian will think you are nervous about what he’s doing.

Well you are nervous about what he is doing, her guts responded.

“I am not,” she muttered and resumed her search for a tie. “I’m nervous about freaking him out, about him not liking it and being afraid to tell me, I just…motherfucker, I don’t want this to mean so much and this was simpler when I was just going to touch him, and fuck, fuck, fuck, this is why Belmont is doing this that asshole!” She laughed ruefully.

This was happening to Adrian in the kitchen and he saw it, she thought. Good for you Trevor but why’d it have to be me? You could have volunteered, you dickhead. But that’s why, her brain responded. His dick. Adrian was concerned, remember?

“Great. Now I have to just play it cool and not—” she found the tie, a simple black silk with tiny sapphire Fleur de Lis. When she reached for it, she could see the tremor in her hand. “Freak out,” she muttered and grabbed it. She turned around and stared at his bed. How many times had she imagined being in it with him? Arching over him, under him, wrapped around him? In those visions it had always seemed organic, primal, right.

“Let it just be that simple,” she said prayerfully and stepped to the bed. The next thing she faced was whether or not to strip. Sypha was not shy and Adrian had seen her almost naked before anyway. “But this is different. Seeing everything at once might be too much. On the other hand, it might help to see what he’s getting into.” She muttered fretfully and after a minute realized she’d just been standing there staring at the bed.

“Alright, that’s enough of this.” She whirled to the floor length mirror and strode over to it. She looked pale and uncertain and that would not do. In a fierce hiss, she lectured herself. “Listen bitch, this is dumb as hell. You wanted this and you are damn well gonna enjoy it. You are going to strip down, get in that bed, lie back and chill. In fact, you’re going to get started, because no one knows how long they’ll be out there and if you get started maybe it’ll make it easier for everyone!”

It worked. Sypha felt a portion of her confidence come back and she stared herself down as she undid the buttons of her dress and slipped out of it. Underwear or no? “Make it simple, simple is better. Off is simple. Naked is where we are going anyway.” She undid her bra and tossed it on the floor. When she slipped off her underwear, she looked at herself and thought, Nothing is changing. You are the same person and so is he, you’re just becoming lovers. “That’s it. No biggie.”

She thought about Adrian under the lights in the studio and moaned. “The biggest biggie. Fuck, I am wet just thinking about him.” So think about him, she thought and moved to the bed with the tie in her hand. Pulled back the covers and shivered as she slid over them. Imagined him in them naked and thinking of her. Sypha could smell him on the fabric and felt her nipples peak in response.  I want you, she thought, I want you to want me too. I want this to be good for you.

Sypha lay there for a moment, the moonlight streaming through the window onto the bed, the quiet warm light of the lamps turning the room into a cozy, secretive dream. She looked at the painting of the hand pressed into the flowering flesh and yearned. Let’s bloom together, she thought. As she tied her blindfold in place, she heard Adrian laugh and her heart eased. Tonight, my love, we become your lovers.

---

She’d closed the door and for a moment, Adrian took that to mean Sypha had changed her mind. Trevor didn’t even pause; he reached around the painter and turned the knob. When it swung open, Adrian could only stare. Like a pagan offering laid out to appease the dark Gods, she lay waiting under the moonlight that splashed over his bed.

Sypha was a sculpture of firm curves and pale skin. Flames tumbled over her shoulders and spilled onto his black pillows. Breasts delicate and rounded for his palms, nipples taut and pink, rose and fell with her breath. The gentle slope of her belly fell between soft, ample hips sheltering the valley of sensual secrets between her thighs. Smoldering embers burned there with heated promise. Her legs were strong and muscular, and as he watched, she curved one leg up. She was an impossible monument of surrender.

She’d tied one of his neckties over her eyes and her lips were parted in silent yearning. As he watched, she licked her lips and fisted her hands into the covers. He’d been aroused already but seeing her like this, waiting for him, was an ache so deep it seemed to be in his bones.

She’s bewitching, he thought helplessly. She’s gorgeous. She’s a goddess anticipating homage and I want to worship on my knees. With my mouth. And my tongue and my fingertips and my co— Trevor touched his shoulder and raised a brow. Adrian looked at him and mouthed, “Oh my God.” Belmont’s grin was wicked and he wiggled his brows.

The sculptor held up the sash from Adrian’s summer coat and indicated he would bind her wrists. Adrian nodded and stepped over the threshold with him. Nerves that had been simmering in his throat shoved their way back into his brain. How can you even think about touching her? Look at that stunning perfection, she’s everything and you’re—

Sypha gasped as Trevor took her wrist and brought it above her head. It ended in a distinctly happy purr and she offered her other wrist. She does like that, he thought and remembered what Trevor said. She’ll tell you what she wants. He took a deep breath, retrieved a hair tie, and bound his hair back.

The whole time he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her chin was angled up towards Trevor as the sculptor looped the sash through the bed frame to tie off her wrists. When he bent to kiss her shoulder, she smiled. “Tease,” she said. “You know where I really want to be kissed.”

She spread her thighs and Adrian caught his breath. A feathery shimmer of copper framed delicate flesh he ached to trace with his fingertips. She is so soft, so graceful and— Trevor slapped her, hard enough that the painter could hear the sting, right over that sensitive skin.

Sypha yelped and jumped. What?! Stop! Adrian was shocked and distressed. The sculptor drew his hand back and it was obvious he was going to do it again. The painter was on the bed, between her legs and putting out his hand over that soft cloud to protect her before he even realized what he’d done. She arched into Adrian’s palm and whimpered.

She’s softer than I could have guessed, like warm sunshine on my skin, he thought. Tender, fragile, flawless and he—. Furious, he looked at Belmont and shook his head, mouthing, “No!!” Trevor blinked and looked confused. He held up three fingers with a quizzical look. Adrian nodded adamantly, scowling, and Belmont held up his hands in appeasement. He moved to the side. He missed the sculptor’s satisfied grin when he settled into the blonde’s armchair.

I can’t believe him! I can’t believe he would do that! Adrian’s temper coupled with his need to sooth. “Sypha,” he sighed soundlessly and gently stroked her pale thigh. When she trembled, he worried that it might still sting where Trevor slapped her, and instinctively bent to kiss the top of her leg above the knee. When his lips touched her skin, Sypha arched gently and murmured, “Please.”

The quiet plea eased into his soul as though he had stepped into a warm bath. There was comfort here, beauty, and such boundless welcome that he felt nothing but eager acceptance. It was easy to touch her, to trail his lips up her thighs and stroke his palm gently over the heart of her. When she rocked into his hand with a quiet moan, his desire swelled over the walls of anxiety and he was lost.

Taste her, take her, she is yours, his heart seemed to say and Trevor’s, it can be addictive thundered in his ears. Lightly, he outlined the shape of her lips, and she whimpered a tiny, entreating, “yes.” Spellbound and emboldened, he parted her and his fingertips sunk into slick, warm flesh. The snap of her hips was helpless and so was the wail that passed her lips.

There was no denying the pleasured notes in her voice or the unmistakable plea of her legs as she tried to edge closer to him. She wanted him, wanted what he was doing. “Gorgeous,” he whispered and followed his fingers with his tongue. Everything narrowed down to Sypha. Her taste, her scent, her heat and her need; she was mysterious discovery and potent fulfilment pouring into his mouth. She was everything.

Energy sparked across his tongue; it was like kissing a waterfall. The raw power, pounding insistence and essential life force under his mouth was intoxicating and filled him with lust so fierce it seemed to seep out of his pores. Instinctively, he sped up his strokes and firmed his touch. Trevor was right, he thought. Each tremble, moan, gasp and flex was a treasure map he could follow with ease. By the time his tongue found the firm, hot bud hidden in her wet folds, a powerful, demanding voice inside of him had taken control.

Hearing her cry his name brought him a moment of surprise, but then intense satisfaction pounded inside of him. I did this; she’s calling for me. The need to hear it again clawed impatiently in his ribcage. Come for me, he thought, let me taste it, let me feel it, and he delicately nipped.

---

The blindfold was torturing her. She’d known both of her lovers were there, she could hear them moving. When Trevor had tied her hands back, she’d assumed that Adrian had decided he wanted to watch first. It made sense to her and the thought was exciting.

Fully prepared for Trevor's clever, firm and relentless hands, she’d deliberately teased him when he’d kissed her. His slap was shocking and firm. It was hot as fuck, but it startled her. She’d felt the sudden give of the bed and then a light, cool, long hand cupped her. Adrian, she thought instantly and whimpered as she moved against him. He trembled and she tried to hold still. There was a pause and she heard Trevor move from the side of the bed and sit down.

Awareness bloomed. Trevor goaded him, she thought and wondered what that meant. Please Adrian, she thought, nerves rising, don’t do anything you don’t—

She thought she heard the quietest murmur of her name, filled with such longing that it smashed through the nerves and plummeted into her desire with the force of a bulldozer. Then he was touching her. There was a dream-like quality to it that slicked over her, and trembled under her skin in a constant hum like an idling engine. He is touching me, he is making love to me, she thought, and begged, “Please.”

Her partners tended to fall into two categories. Most preferred to go down on her as quickly as possible, treating it as a side quest to the main event. That could be good or bad, depending on how good they were at it. Sometimes, much more rarely, they would revel in it and would touch her like it was their life’s work to make her explode.

Trevor was a reveler and to her utter joy, it appeared so was Adrian. However, that’s where the similarities ended. Trevor’s touch was demanding, sure, possessive. Adrian’s was steeped in romance and tenderness. Where Trevor would command her orgasm, the blonde was coaxing, teasing, giving. There was infinite generosity here and it fed into her pleasure with each stroke and lick. He was seducing her with his adoration.

I should have known, she thought and bit back his name again as he traced a pattern with his tongue over her. There was no stopping the buck of her hips or the plea of “Yes, don’t stop.” But there’d been a reason for the blindfold and she was trying to respect that. No matter what, she didn’t want him to stop touching her. I might die if he does, she thought.

It was ridiculous in a way; she’d never needed romance or seduction. Usually Sypha enjoyed a firm hand and a fast build, but not this time. He was undoing her with his endless patience. From the little murmurs of pleasure he made when she moved against him, the hand kneading her hip that had drifted up to caress the underside of her breast and the occasional rasp of his teeth against her folds, he was everything she never knew she wanted.

Every tiny thing was magnified tenfold in the darkness of her blindfold. Every touch was a surprise that tumbled over her in the surf of pleasure. It built slowly, kindled heat into her belly that spread and slicked over her skin until she writhed against him, her gasps taking a keening edge of anticipation.

Dimly, she thought she heard a groan that could only be from Trevor but it was lost under Adrian’s tongue flicking up against the source of her desire. It was such a sharp stab of pleasure that she forgot herself and sobbed out his name. Oh no, she had a second to think before Adrian nipped her over the same spot.

There was no pause or moment to breathe as her release rose up abruptly. “Again, please, oh please, I’m close, I’m so—” He took her in between his teeth and urgently kneaded her flesh. The sensation had her writhing against him, all thoughts of care or tenderness lost in the impending climax. She wound her legs around him and used her heels to urge him close.

Adrian, yes, yes, just like that!” she choked out and strained against her bound hands. The sensation of floating, falling, suspended in a universe of pleasure so vast and huge had her cresting. “Oh my God I’m going to come, I’m—" and he framed her entrance with two knuckles and circled inward firmly. The pressure was divine and she fell.

Her orgasm exploded out of her with the force of an eruption and she bucked hard into him, starlight dancing inside her limbs and climbing out of her lips. “I love you, Adrian. I love you, please, I want you inside me, I need you,” she managed before it dissolved into an incoherent wail.

---

Trevor knew he’d owe an apology to Adrian later but from the way things were going, he figured that he’d be forgiven. The painter had no way of knowing that Sypha would be just fine with the smack he’d given her. Just as he’d thought might happen, Tepes had been shocked and then protective.

The idea had come to him after Adrian had said that he needed to know she was taken care of. He was such a gentle, tender thing, sweet and worried, Trevor thought again. What he really needed was to just touch her. The look on Tepes face when he’d seen Sypha in the dining room had said it all, and if the painter could just get back to that headspace, everything would come naturally.

And coming was definitely going to happen, he noted with a silent groan. He’d never been so fucking quiet in his entire life. It was killing him but was also strangely arousing. Belmont had never been in such a situation before and it was blisteringly erotic. Sypha was completely naked and open; Adrian was fully dressed and ensnared. He never would have guessed that this would be as just as intimate and just as arousing as being on the bed with them.

Sypha was drowning, he could hear it in the edge of her cries, and see it in the restless, beseeching movements of her limbs. Knowing what she tasted like, the heaven of her skin and the tang of her desire, only added to the insanity. It was so different to see her like this. From this vantage he could catch all the nuanced trembles, facial expressions and all the little gifts of desire that she offered.

Adrian was transforming in front of him, tentative gentleness giving ground to loving intensity. His focus was palpable and the sounds he was making as he moved between Sypha’s thighs was undoing the remaining remnants of Trevor’s control at an alarming pace. Trevor could literally see him gorging on the power of his ability to give pleasure and to find his own bliss in the giving of it.  

Seeing the blonde rock into the mattress as he worshipped Sypha made Belmont wish he could slide under him and just open his mouth. Lie there and take it while Tepes fucked his face. Instead, he’d undone his pants, palmed his cock and tormented himself with pleasurable frustration. This is the hottest thing I have ever seen, he thought and bit his lip.

Belmont was agonizingly hard and ‘stupidly close to coming,’ to borrow Adrian’s phrase. As though it was a bad thing, Trevor thought again with a pang. As though he wasn’t allowed to unless we did first. It was unbelievably sweet but also a little worrisome. The sculptor stroked himself slowly and tried to ease back from the sharp edge of coming.

In his case, it could be a bad thing. Trevor rarely had a reason to try to come quietly and suspected in this case it would be impossible. The last thing he wanted to do was to interrupt. So when Sypha cried out with a particularly keen sob and he groaned instinctively, he swore in his head and froze. Good going Belmont, he thought unhappily. Your timing is terrible. Then it got worse.

“Adrian!” Sypha wailed with a tone that could only be termed begging and Trevor winced. Ah, shit, he thought, certain it would break the moment, but the painter just growled with approval. The sound gave Belmont goosebumps. Damn, look at him, the sculptor thought with a deep ache of lust. He’s lost in her, lost to this.

Her breathless response had Trevor’s whole body breaking out in a sweat. “Again, please, oh please, I’m close, I’m so—” She arched hard, pulling her hands desperately and twining her legs tightly around him. Do it, Belmont thought, give it to her. “Adrian, yes, yes, just like that!” Adrian brought his hand up between her thighs and cradled her closer.

Fucking hell, I could come from this, Trevor thought and could practically taste her climax.

“Oh my God I’m going to come, I’m—" and she did, body spasming into the mattress, throat working, lips parted and gasping. Her toes curled prettily against Adrian’s black shirt and Trevor groaned, squeezing his cock with a punishing grip to stop his answering orgasm. “I love you, Adrian. I love you, please, I want you inside me, I need you,” she begged him, ending with a broken sob that made Trevor hiss. He wasn’t the only one.

Adrian’s groan was throaty and needy. “Yes, Sypha, I want that too,” he told her in that darkly honied voice. The painter eased over her and lifted her blindfold. “I love you,” he said and kissed her.

“I can taste me on you,” she whispered into his mouth and Trevor gave in. That’s it, the sculptor thought and started to ease his pants down so he could completely free his cock. When the painter eased back and put his hands to the button on his slacks, Sypha’s gaze found Trevor’s and she licked her lips. When her gaze dropped, she whispered, “Trevor.”

Adrian turned to stare at him, eyes dropping to his hard length. The blonde’s cock was arrogantly demanding attention as well, and when he looked at the sculptor there was a visible twitch from his rigid length. Oh fuck me, Trevor thought as naked lust warred with wild need in those golden depths.

“I want inside of Sypha, but I want your release too and I want you both and I don’t know how to do it,” Adrian almost wailed, so desperate and forlorn that it would have been laughable if he wasn’t so clearly distressed. Trevor’s smile was wicked and a little feral.

“Untie Sypha,” he said, “we’ll do this together.” Adrian nodded and clenched his jaw, staring at Belmont. He didn’t move. Trevor stood and kicked off his boots, easing his pants down. When Adrian gasped, Belmont couldn’t help but preen. "You make me so fucking hot," he told the blonde and thought, I just want to destroy him. He started to move his hand up his cock.

When Adrian’s eyes flew to his, Trevor was surprised by the certainty he saw in them. “Don’t. That’s for me. Please.” The unexpected command did nothing to calm his lust. The animal inside of him strained forward. Belmont strode over to Sypha and unceremoniously wrenched her bonds loose. He didn’t wait for her to get completely free, but whirled and yanked Adrian to him.

When he tasted Sypha’s arousal on the painter’s lips, he simply broke. “Adrian, damn it, I want to be gentle,” he ground out, working the painter's shirt out of his waistband and almost tearing the garment in half. When one perfect nipple was exposed, he bent to suckle vigorously. The blonde bucked against him and cried out, falling back to the bed.

Trevor, yes, oh, oh!” Adrian keened as he arched. The sound of his name drilled into the sculptor’s mind.

It’s not enough, I need it, Trevor thought deliriously. I need him. I want inside of him, I want… and he heard Adrian’s plea again, like a warning bell in his head. I want inside of Sypha but I want your release too.

Sypha arched over the blonde, hand fisted in his long hair before she scraped her teeth over Trevor’s ear. “His dream, let’s do it,” she murmured to him and then gasped as Adrian’s mouth found her skin.

Hell yes, he thought and Adrian’s hand found his thigh and crept up.

Inside, inside, inside that pretty mouth, chanted through the sculptor’s mind and he made himself pull away from that elegant hand. Licking his way to the waistband of the black slacks, he unsnapped them. He lifted Adrian’s hips and tugged the pants down as gently as his frenzy would allow. He grinned and then gulped when he saw the Gucci waistband.

He dropped the slacks on the floor and felt like a god looking down on his sacrifice. Adrian and Sypha were exploring each other’s chests and Adrian’s cock was a long, hard line beckoning Trevor to join them. He nipped Sypha’s shoulder and she purred, raising her head to watch. Trevor slid the black briefs down and when the painter’s cock sprang free in a hard, proud proclamation of his desire, Trevor groaned appreciatively while Sypha whined eagerly.

Adrian bucked up and whimpered, “I need you.” Both Sypha and Trevor took it as their cue. Sypha took his mouth, tugging his head back by his hair. Trevor took his cock with an animalistic urgency that bordered on violence.

He’s perfect, he’s gorgeous, I just can’t, I have to, I want… “Adrian, you are fucking unreal,” Trevor growled and licked up that glorious length. When his mouth closed over Adrian’s cock, Trevor could taste him. Dark, potent, heady passion fell over his tongue and he thought he might shatter right there.

"Trevor," the painter whimpered and Trevor couldn’t wait. He released the painter’s cock with a wet slurp and slapped Sypha’s ass hard.

“We do this now or I’m coming right here,” he said to both of them. Sypha hissed.

“Yes,” Adrian agreed in a breathy acquiescence. “I’m… I want you both to fuck me.”

It was so bluntly erotic that Trevor couldn’t stand it. “Sypha, pillows at the baseboard,” he ground out and she was already moving, tossing them to the end of the bed. Eyes on Adrian, the sculptor stood back and pointed to the baseboard.

“I’m not going to fuck your mouth this time. I don’t want to choke you and I won't be able to stop.” Adrian whined unhappily and Trevor exhaled sharply.

“No one can deep throat on their first try and I'm too close. I want this to be good for you, Legs. Trust me.” Adrian nodded, attentive posture and heaving chest. “You’ll control how much of me you take into your mouth and when the time comes,” Trevor paused and managed a laugh, “and it’s going to come really fucking quickly I should warn you—you can decide if you want me to come in your mouth or—”

“Yes, oh my God, yes,” Adrian was nodding eagerly, eyes dropping to Trevor's cock with open yearning, hair spilling out over his shoulders and golden eyes glistening.

I can’t believe this is real, this is happening, Trevor thought and had to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Sypha had knelt in front of the blonde and was easing back into the pillows, drawing him down with her.

How much I want this, Trevor thought, how much I need to see this.

“I can’t wait,” she told the blonde, “Let me,” and guided Adrian's wrist to the baseboard.

Trevor’s grip on the wood was painful and he held himself in check. I want to see his face, he thought, I want to see her take him. He was well aware it might finish him before Adrian could get to him, but there was nothing he wanted more than this.

Adrian looked up at Trevor and smiled, settling his hand over the sculptor’s. “Together,” the painter said, meeting his gaze before he looked down at Sypha. The blonde touched her cheek and smiled. “I love you,” he told her and Trevor’s heart stumbled. The connection, the magic that flowed between the three of them, was staggering.

I love you both, so very much, Belmont thought.

“Together,” she agreed and settled her palm against the men’s joined hands. With her other hand, she grasped the painter’s shaft and guided him to her entrance. “I love you,” she whispered and arched into him, infinite welcome. Trevor’s groan merged with the blonde’s as Adrian’s grip on his hand became unbelievably tight.

Sypha,” Adrian gasped and she circled his waist with her legs. Belmont saw her hand on the blonde’s shoulder flex and Trevor felt the mirroring sensation on their joined hands. She moaned when Adrian thrust into her and the sculptor’s orgasm tripped dangerously close.

I’m not going to make it, he thought, watching the painter’s amazing ass clench against Sypha’s calves.

Adrian brought his other hand up to the baseboard and snapped his hips forcefully into her. “Yes!” the red head cried, “just like that, Adrian.” Her breasts swayed in time with his thrusts and Trevor could hear how wet she was, a liquid squelch exclamation point that was the soundtrack to his very own orgasm.

“Holy fucking hell,” Trevor rasped out, “you’re so fucking beautiful, both of you. I’m going to come just watching you.”

Adrian looked up quickly and whimpered unhappily. "There is time Adrian, believe me, we will get to it," Belmont said and bent to kiss him. Adrian's mouth was eager and pure, sensual sin when he nipped Trevor's lips. The blonde broke the kiss, tossed his head and looked into Trevor's eyes.

“Do it then," he said with shocking command. "Tell us what you see as we watch you come for us.”

There's that sass and pride, Trevor thought as his cock twitched in response.

“Holy shit, Adrian,” Sypha groaned. “That’s so hot I—” The blonde reached down between their bodies and the rest was lost in her wail.

Golden eyes met his again and Trevor could see Adrian’s own need. He’s close, the brunette realized, and gave in. When Belmont palmed his own cock, they both shuddered and Sypha twisted her head to watch over the edge of the baseboard, parting her lips as though she could taste him.

“I wish I could tell you how gorgeous you both look,” Trevor said, timing his strokes with Adrian’s thrusts. His climax climbed swiftly and he struggled for words. “What it's like,” gasp, “to see you fuck her like that, hear how wet,” pant, “she is for you, hear the way you talk to each other.” Both of them were transfixed, their hips moving in time with his strokes.

Sypha’s eyes fluttered and she arched up with a helpless half-laugh, half-sob, “I’m going to come, again.” Adrian’s gaze snapped back to her and he growled with approval.

“Adrian,” her hips met his in a frantic race to the finish. “Trevor,” her eyes opened and she stared up at him. Adrian looked up as well, liquid golden eyes locked onto his face. “I love you,” she sobbed out and convulsed, a magnificent ballet of fulfillment that moved against Adrian in a timeless dance of satisfaction. Trevor saw her release reflected in Adrian’s eyes before his long lashes hid them as the painter shuddered with her, whispering her name and going limp. It undid Belmont and his own climax hit him with the force of a locomotive, ramming through his body.

It was enormous, endless earthquakes that shook him from skin to bone, right into his heart and soul. Every cell, every fiber, was etched in pleasure; the names of his lovers seared onto his lips. In the far recesses of his mind he understood that there would never be any getting over them. These were his life mates, made for him. Perfect for him. Perfect to him.

“My lovers,” Trevor whispered reverently and sunk bonelessly to the floor.

---

Your own personal Jesus
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who cares
Your own personal Jesus
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who's there
Feeling unknown and you're all alone
Flesh and bone by the telephone
Lift up the receiver, I'll make you a believer
Take second best, put me to the test
Things on your chest, you need to confess
I will deliver, you know I'm a forgiver
Reach out and touch faith

-"Personal Jesus (Holier Than Thou Approach Mix)," Depeche Mode

Notes:

Pretty sure I got pregnant from this. *Whew*

---
Thanks to Pixaby for the flower, Cottonbro via Pexels for the lovers and Daria Shevtsova for the picture of "Sypha."

Chapter 22: You got the peaches, I got the cream

Summary:

“Oh,” Adrian said, enjoying the wet slide on Trevor’s skin. “Wow, that’s ohh, mmm,” he slid again and felt the drag, “I like that.”

“You and me both,” Trevor noted and groaned. “Watching your face when you discover something that turns you on is the hottest fucking thing. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You should tell me,” Adrian said eagerly. “You were very good at it last night.” He rocked gently again, edging upward.

Notes:

Dec 5-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Adrian woke to the deep navy of the night lightening into a pale cobalt and blinked at it. Why can I see the sky? he wondered and shifted slightly. Warm skin slid against him and he stilled. The night slammed into him with full force and awareness flared. He was still at the end of his bed, and facing the window.

Carefully, he turned to see the top of Sypha’s head nestled in the crook of his arm, her body and his covered with a quilt from the guest room.  Across from her, Belmont lay stretched out on his belly, deeply asleep with his face pressed into the pillow and one muscular arm stretched across them on top of the blanket. Adrian could feel the warmth of Trevor’s palm on his thigh.

How can he be warm? the painter wondered. Trevor was buck naked, hairy ass in the air and blanket kicked off to the side. Looking over his muscular flanks, the curve of his spine and the adorable contrast of his white ass compared to his tan everywhere else, Adrian felt deep, abiding love.

I almost told him, he thought and felt the keen edge of indecision. In the glorious perfection of the trio’s lovemaking last night, the painter had felt the invincibility of their shared passion. It was a bond so deep and true it had welded onto his frame and seeped into his marrow. When Sypha had come under him, speaking his love for her seemed natural. When he’d looked up at Belmont the words were right there, dangling like ripe fruit from his heart and his tongue. The time had been right and the words felt organic.

But he’d unravelled before he could speak his truth to Trevor. The feeling of Sypha shuddering while he was buried deep within her, while eye level with Belmont’s gorgeous cock, had made it impossible not to come. Embarrassed, he recalled the deep lethargy had almost immediately taken over him. The shame diminished when he remembered that Sypha had collapsed too, snuggling up to him and kissing his chest before passing out. He’d only stirred when Trevor had dropped the quilt over them.

I kissed him. Adrian struggled to recall the details. Yes? We spoke; what did I…? With a flash of real alarm, Adrian remembered.

“Trevor?” A cool breeze and then the weight of the quilt.

“Shhh, Legs, go back to sleep. I just got a blanket so you two didn’t freeze.”

“You are so good to us, thank you.” A touch, a warmth as the sculptor pet his hair.

“Oh, my pleasure.” Even with his eyes closed, the painter can hear the smirk in Belmont’s voice. “We were all sooo good to each other tonight. High fives all ‘round. Now, go the fuck to sleep.”

“You’ll stay? Be here with us?” Even in his blissful, warm haze, Adrian feels the fear, slow to rise but still present.

“Yes lover, I am here. I would cuddle you, but there’s no room. I’ll lay down on the other side.”

“This is home; you are home. Home now. With us.” Adrian said with conviction melting into a slurred finish. He can feel sleep creeping back up on him as his fear ebbed away. Trevor would stay. Trevor would be with him.

Quiet now and then softly, so softly, beside his cheek, “Yes, home is where you and Sypha are.” Belmont’s mouth tender on his cheekbone and then brush over his lips, lulling Adrian back into the deep velvet of sleep.

“I love you, Trevor,” he murmured before giving into the darkness.

Oh no, Adrian thought and winced. Damn it, I have no idea how he took it. I have no idea if it was alright, or if it was too much. There was so much going on last night. I don’t want him to feel smothered, or like I am asking him to love me in return. I don’t want him to feel like I am manipulating him.

Wait, he said that home is where you and Sypha are. Did he mean just the two of us, Sypha and I? Or the trio together? Real alarm spiked in him. Did he think that he wasn’t part of last night? Guilt struck; he’d always been afraid of how the dynamic might work with three. Trevor had watched them the whole time; he hadn’t actually participated.

That’s bullshit, part of him protested immediately. The connection had been so visceral and the union so strong. When he was touching Sypha, he felt Trevor there with him. When he’d found his release, it had been with his eyes on Belmont. The painter’s orgasm was in no small part because of things that Trevor had said and done.

It would not have been the same without him, Adrian thought as he grew hard from the memories, he was a vital part of what happened.

The painter stifled a groan, remembering Trevor’s passionate touch when he stripped him and put his mouth on the blonde’s cock. Adrian had been ridiculously close to coming right there. The conversation about how Trevor would finish had been the only reason Adrian lasted as long as he had.

He had to know what I meant when I said I love him. I mean, it’s love, how could you misinter— A chill went through him and a sick taste cloyed in the back of Adrian’s throat. Oh please, no, what if he thought I meant love like…

Adrian had been exposed to the fickle use of love and sex in the upper echelons of his parents’ world and the art world. Both circles seemed to treat love as a commodity; something dramatic, overblown and used to sell tabloid magazines until the inevitable break up. Or worse, as something to use against each other, secretive and forbidden, to only confess around the lunch table when discussing how a meaningless fuck in a hotel made your life more exciting and how boring returning home to your spouse was.

He’d despised such ‘love’ and found it repulsive. Adrian counted himself extraordinarily lucky that his parents did not participate in such disgustingly vapid behavior and indeed were esteemed for the longevity of their union and its obvious strength. The blonde always wanted what they had; devotion, respect, equality, adoration, fascination, love, and yes, an obvious attraction to each other that had spanned almost three decades now.

Given the world that Adrian came from, it was completely reasonable for Trevor to assume that the painter had meant love in that shallow, trite sense. As though it was a casual nothing, something to toss around like money on the nightstand. The blonde felt sick.

You share nothing but your money, the one thing you think gives you power… Trevor had claimed that Adrian tried to have power over him before, would he see it as another way of trying to manipulate him? What if he thought that this was just another attempt to control? the painter agonized.

Why the fuck didn’t I stay awake?! Now the moment was gone and he had no idea what to do.

It was easier with Sypha. They’d already confessed their love for each other as friends before, it seemed natural to say it as lovers. Maybe that’s the key! Adrian thought with hope. Maybe I wait for him to reference it and depending on his reaction, I can just say I meant it as a friend or as a lover.

What if he doesn’t bring it up? his doubt asked him. What if he just leaves? That sick fear of inadequacy rose up in his throat.

Adrian felt very brittle at the idea that Trevor might find his love a reason to leave. There was a prickle in his nose and the blonde felt pressure around his eyes that could only mean that he was going to cry. For fuck’s sake, he thought and decided it was time to get the hell out of here before his lovers woke and found him having a panic attack.

Quietly, he gently extracted himself from Sypha and slid out from under the covers. Naked, he stood and looked at the two people he adored and loved. The revelations of the night before cascaded through him: the confessions from Trevor that broke his heart, the agreement to live together, Sypha’s stunning list of sexual preferences, discovering his ability to give and receive pleasure in a thousand different ways…

He saw his future laid out in his bed before him and felt it climb into his throat. Overwhelmed and fully aroused, he crept out to the laundry, found a pair of his yoga pants and quietly went to the main bathroom. It was spacious, cool and the sky was a lovely shade of blue, close to Sypha’s eyes. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw Alucard Addrine Tepes and stared.

You can’t tell that I have made love and found love, he thought, but I know it. I refuse to apologize for it. If my love is too much for Trevor, let it be honest between us. It’s not as though I can stop loving him now. What’s done is done, and I have so much I want to give him.

What if he leaves though? his heart asked him and the prickling tears returned.

Would it hurt less in the future? His brain retorted. If he leaves because of how I feel, he will be leaving someday regardless.

But in time he might love you, if you don’t push now, his heart pleaded.

Questions and doubts loaded up like dirty dishes in the sink until he couldn’t look in the mirror anymore. I need to clear my head, he thought. He’d never practiced in here before but he didn’t want to run the risk of waking his lovers just because he was having a crisis of confidence.

He found the cool tile offered good grip and the space reasonable for a moderately rigorous session. As a bonus, he could watch the sky lighten and the clouds move by. As always, the movements calmed him and helped him to feel more comfortable in his body. By the time he came out of the last warrior pose into downward dog, his thighs were pleasantly humming and he had a light sheen of sweat.

Stripping off his pants, he started the shower, and grabbed some toiletries from under the sink. When he came up, he caught his reflection in the mirror and just looked again. Gorgeous. Captivating. Haunting. Divine. Perfect. Adrian wasn't stupid. He was aware that he had nice skin and a good bone structure, but the idea that he would be considered that attractive was a little staggering.

I mean look at me, he thought with a critical artist’s eye. My hair is unruly, always wanting to do that curly thing at the front that makes me look like Bo Peep. My nose is too narrow, my face is stupidly long, my eyelashes are so lengthy they collect dust from the shelves I pass. I am a little too pale and my eye color is annoying; it can look like I don’t have an iris. And of course, there is my giant ass scar.

He touched the scar and shivered, remembering Trevor licking over it and Sypha tracing it with her fingers. It was a gift that neither of them seemed to mind it, however, he would be the first one to admit it wasn’t pretty. But it would feel weird to not have it anymore and it reminded him of how precious every day was.

Half the campus has come to my picture? He thought and laughed. They just wanted to make me feel better, he decided and shook his head. He turned on the shower and murmured happily. The heat felt divine and he liked to be clean. He lathered up and started humming RuPaul again.

He was mid-rinse when he realized he hadn’t opened the door. If Trevor or Sypha were looking for him, they might think he wanted to be left alone as he’d been in here for almost an hour now. An open door means you would welcome company, he thought and a slow sensual smile worked across his face.

Shower sex was something he’d heard of, but was never sure how that would work. Probably no one was even up yet, it couldn’t even be 6:30 am but just in case, he could crack it open. Finishing his rinse, he stepped out of the shower and opened the door, peeking out.

Belmont was seated on the hardwood floor opposite him, long, muscular legs parted and out in front of him. His head was against the wall, face to the ceiling, eyes closed and lips parted. His hand was between his thighs, wrapped around the top of his cock and pumping lazily. Adrian gasped, watching his pink cock head play sensual peek-a-boo.

Trevor’s chin came down and those lashes fluttered open. “Good morning,” he said casually, hand maintaining its steady tempo. The painter licked his lips and managed a nod.

“I woke up and you were gone, so I came looking for you,” the sculptor continued, as though they were discussing the right way to set the dining room table. “You have a nice place.” Adrian’s own cock was rising to the occasion and he resisted the urge to demurely cover himself while Belmont happily jerked off without compulsion.

“We have a nice place,” Adrian corrected softly. This is your home now too, he thought and willed Trevor to accept it.

“Good point Legs, we definitely do.” His hand sped up slightly as he looked the painter up and down. “Anyway, the door was shut and I heard you panting a bit, and then the shower, and it made me hot.” Trevor smirked. “Thinking about you made me hard as hell. Wondering what you were thinking about and wondering if it was me. I didn’t want to disrespect your privacy; the door was shut.”

Trevor shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. “Like I mentioned, I don’t get offended, I just take care of myself. Go about your business like I am not here. Just ignore me.”

Ignore that? the painter thought incredulously. Ignore the offering of pure sexual ecstasy splayed out on the floor and begging for sampling? Not fucking likely. Adrian watched Trevor’s shoulders flex and the glint of his chest hair. He’d never tried to seduce anyone and was afraid it might be a laughable exercise.

On the other hand, Belmont could be very playful and silly in his advances and the painter had never found it anything but erotic. Maybe that would go both ways, if this attempt went sideways. Gathering his courage, the blonde pushed his hair to the side and opened the door wide.

Eyes on Trevor, he sunk to his hands and knees. The water dripped off of him onto the tile. Soaking wet, Adrian slowly crawled forward.

“Holy fuck,” Trevor exhaled sharply and let his cock go. The magnificent length fell to the side and smacked his thigh. Both men swallowed hard.

Eyes on the prize, Adrian thought, salivating as he reached the sculptor’s ankles. Belmont hissed and reached for him but the blonde smiled and bent his head to lick his calf instead. The painter could practically feel the blunt press of Belmont’s cock against his lips as he worked his tongue upwards, the sculptor’s leg trapped between his.

When he reached the side of Trevor’s knee, he nipped with a happy murmur. “I should always jerk off outside of the bathroom,” Trevor said breathlessly. “It’s a happenin’ place to be, like a 7-11 or something.” Adrian snorted and dipped down. The arch of the sculptor’s foot curved into the cleft of his ass.

“Oh,” Adrian said, enjoying the wet slide of his ass on Trevor’s skin. “Wow, that’s ohh, mmm,” he slid again and felt the drag edge deeper into the valley, “I like that.”

“You and me both,” Trevor noted and groaned. “Watching your face when you discover something that turns you on is the hottest fucking thing. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You should tell me,” Adrian said eagerly. “You were very good at it last night.” He rocked gently again, edging upward until his mouth was inches from that pretty, swollen cock head.

“If my dick had a voice it would be begging for your mouth.” Trevor rasped out. “Your lips are so pretty and your tongue is,” Adrian used his tongue on the crease of hip and thigh, “a fucking miracle. Adrian.” The painter ran a finger down Trevor’s cock and palmed his balls.

The sculptor’s fists were clenched beside his thighs. “I’m also trying to remind myself not pin you down and fuck you until you scream my name.”

But that sounds perfect, Adrian thought with a zing of lust. He licked over the top of Belmont’s cock.

“Not helping me remember,” Trevor said, breath harsh.

“Mmmmm,”Adrian murmured teasingly. Trevor’s skin was shockingly soft. Against the rigid hardness of his cock, it was a heady mix. Just as Sypha had entranced him with her spice and tang, Trevor’s flavor surprised him. The sculptor tasted slightly sweet and menacingly potent. The Belmont jerked and thrust toward him.

“Adrian,” his lover growled and reached for him again. His hand stopped partway. “Please, can I touch you?”

As though I have real power here, Adrian thought stupefied. Trevor could touch him if he wanted. The blonde knew he was strong, but he was certain that the brunette was stronger.

He’s giving me the power to guide this. It was thrilling and a little nerve-wracking. But once he touches me, it’ll be over and I want to please him. I want to explore. Perhaps there is a compromise, Adrian thought with anticipation.

“You may touch my hair,” he said, eyes looking up as his tongue carefully circled Trevor’s cock. “Oh! And my throat please. See if you can feel yourself inside of me.” Those blue eyes flashed hot. Trevor wrapped one large hand around the wet mass of his hair and the other against Adrian’s throat. Unconsciously, Adrian bucked against his leg and moaned. “Yes, just like that,” the painter implored.

“Fuck, I would do anything when you ask so nicely in that velvet voice.” The deep notes in Trevor’s tone underscored his desire. “Tell me lover, do you want to see how much of my cock you can fit in your mouth?”

That’s all I want from the world right now, the blonde thought.

“Yes, Trevor, oh, just let me…” Adrian wiggled forward and opened his mouth. When the sculptor’s cock slipped past his lips he whined, and Belmont inhaled sharply.

He liked that, the blonde thought hungrily and did it again. The sculptor had been right last night, he wouldn’t have been able to do this if Trevor had ridden his face. But someday, he thought eagerly.

Thanks to his talk with Sypha and his eyeful last night, he was prepared for the gag. He was completely shocked by how deeply he loved it. Being inside of Sypha was a physical manifestation of being welcomed into her heart. Having Trevor inside of his mouth was like trying to swallow the sun. The soft slide, the sensation of over-fullness, the sweetness of Belmont’s panting breath, the reflexive twitches of his belly under the painter’s hand, they were feeding into his desire in delicious cupfuls.

Carefully, he tried to duplicate the swirling sensation Trevor had done to him last night and Belmont’s hips snapped into him. For a moment, the sculptor angled into his throat. Lust exploded into Adrian. Yes, do it again, he thought. I want it again, give me that gorgeous length until I can’t breathe.

“Fuck! Legs, are you alright? I am sor—” the brunette’s words ended in a throaty groan as Adrian delicately slipped his shaft back down. Trevor’s hand on his throat caressed gently and there was wonder in his voice, “I can feel me inside you. Fucking hell Adrian, I’m not going to last long, I am warning you.”

As though that wasn’t exactly what I wanted, the blonde thought with rising smugness. As though I don’t want to feel you come apart under my mouth and fill me up with you.

He angled his head up so he could see Belmont. The image of blazing lust looking down at him, eyes so blue they seemed to glow, lips parted and throat working, made the blonde instinctively grind on his calf. “Fuck, yes,” Trevor’s lips curved into a wicked smirk and his voice was low and forceful. “Ride that shit.”

The painter did it again, carefully timing his slurping pulls on Trevor’s cock with his rocking. Too slow, he thought fretfully. He eased back. When Belmont’s rigid length audibly popped out, wet and hot into his palm, the blonde instinctively wrapped his hand around him. The brunette muttered a prayerful oath.

“I wanted to go faster and I can’t when you are that deep. I’m sorry,” Adrian said, anxiety blotting out pleasure. “I can—"

“Hey,” Trevor’s hand moved from his throat to his cheek. “I’m not complaining! Seriously, look at me, do I look unhappy to you?” Adrian met his eyes and there was an inferno of longing and tenderness there. The painter caught his breath.

“Come here,” Belmont said, and pulled Adrian’s hair to bring his head up. The blonde shivered happily and nuzzled all that lovely chest hair on his way up. Astride Trevor’s lap, their cocks gently kissing, Adrian’s cool wetness against Trevor’s intense heat, the pair looked at each other.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I think I should,” Belmont started and Adrian’s heart broke.

I knew it, he thought, as his brows knit and his lips trembled.

“Wait, it’s not bad, hold on! Why would you think it would be something bad?” Trevor looked alarmed and the brunette dived for his mouth. Hands on his flushed cheeks, Trevor’s hard, demanding lips on his and arrogant tongue seeking entrance, the painter felt his nerves fade. Adrian yielded completely into the sculptor, opening up to him like an envelope under a letter opener.

“That’s it,” the sculptor murmured, “there’s my beautiful Adrian.” The kiss gentled and Tepes muttered bad-temperedly. Trevor grinned against his lips. “Want it hard and fast do you?” the sculptor asked him.

So what if I do? Adrian thought and reached between them to grasp Belmont’s cock. The stuttered ‘whoosh’ that the brunette made was gratifying. “Don’t you?” the blonde asked coyly as he tightened his grip and met Trevor’s gaze. Unbridled need spilled out of his eyes and Belmont swallowed.

“Maybe,” the brunette ground out. “Maybe I want to see you make me come.”

“Maybe I want that too,” the painter said as he pumped in time with the grind of his hips on Trevor’s leg. This shouldn’t be as hot as it feels, I should feel ridiculous, Adrian thought. Instead I want to fuck his thigh until I come from it.

“Maybe I could do the same to you?” the brunette asked between his teeth, jaw clenched as he quaked against Adrian. The blonde smiled.

I’m not sure that’s so smart on my part, I don’t want to disappoint you, he thought. He spoke slowly and teasingly. “I don’t know, I mean, I want to stay focused… on the task in hand, so to speak.” The sculptor’s eyes narrowed.

“Did you just—” His head fell back as Adrian ran his thumb over the tip of his cock in a circling motion. “Fuck you are good, so damned good.”

The painter’s heart stumbled and longing filled him. “Say it again,” he whispered.

Trevor’s chin came back down and he looked at Tepes. “You are so, so good.” Adrian swallowed hard and looked at the soothing understanding in Trevor’s eyes.

Do you know I love you? the blonde wondered. Did you believe me?

Trevor smiled slowly. “The way you touch me, your responses. You are just what I need; just what I dreamed you’d be. You are perfect.”

The blonde’s long lashes gave him cover so he didn’t have to meet that penetrating, observing stare, but Trevor wasn’t having it. He put his hand on the painter’s jaw and brought his chin up. “Look at me, Adrian.” Hesitantly, he did.

“You are perfect to me; do you hear me? I love everything you are doing, everything you give me.”

Do you love me? Adrian wanted to ask but he couldn’t. Instead, he kissed Belmont’s wrist, shimmied back and started to lean down.

“Uh, if you do that, I’m coming in your mouth,” Trevor rasped to him and Adrian gave him a cheeky smile before he fit the tip of the sculptor’s cock in his mouth. “Ooookay then,” Belmont hissed.

It took a moment but he found he could move his hand and his mouth in a matched tempo with a speed that pleased him. “Fuck yes, just like that, you’re amazing, that’s—,” Trevor urged him. The hand Belmont had in his hair was tight and rocking in time with his movements. “Adrian, fuck, you are going to make me—.” The painter purred deep in his throat and Trevor came with a strangled shout.

I miscalculated here, the blonde thought, even as he gloried in it. That sweetness and power erupted across his tongue and splashed down his throat. It was more than he was expecting and the sculptor’s spend ran down his chin and onto Trevor’s thighs.

The painter made a sad sound of loss, and Belmont pulled him back abruptly. “Spit if you need to!” Trevor said with concern and the painter shook his head with a grumpy frown. Belmont snickered, “You look like an offended prince. I’m just saying, I don’t expect you to—”

Adrian swallowed and brought his fingers to his chin, sweeping up some of the come and bringing it to his lips. “That’s because I am offended. I’ve wanted this since I met you, I’m not going to spit when I finally—”

Trevor yanked him to his lips and kissed him. “You,” he nipped Adrian’s lower lip, “are so fucking hot,” he licked over the painter’s chin, “and tasting me on you, makes me want you all over again.” He slipped his tongue into Adrian’s mouth to share. The painter sucked greedily.

“Trevor, tell me that you’ll fuck me soon,” the words tumbled out. “I need it.” Well that is honest, he thought, chagrined.

Belmont’s lips curved playfully but his eyes were hot and needy. “Believe me, I want to, but it’s not something you jump into, Legs. Or in this case, pound into.”

Adrian whined, “You don’t have to be so careful with me, I trust you.”

Trevor leaned forward and placed his hand against the blonde’s throat. “It’s because you trust me, that I want to be careful. Like I said, I want you to scream my name. Not scream ‘stop that hurts.’ That being said, I’ll pack up some lube tonight and bring it over.”

Anticipation unfurled in Adrian and he smiled hopefully, “You promise?”

The sculptor groaned and gave him a kiss with spicy heat in it. “You make it hard to be good.”

“I happen to like you hard,” Adrian said smugly, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

“That seems to happen a lot around you,” Trevor said and eased him back. “And speaking of hard, there is a not-so-small matter my mouth needs to attend to.”

“Wait! Just a second,” the painter said anxiously. Belmont stilled and looked at him inquiringly.

“What were you going to say?” Adrian asked him, “Before you kissed me?”

“Huh? What was I…? Oh! Right. Yeah,” Trevor slipped back to look at him. “I wanted to ask you; do you think sex with me is disappointing?”

Adrian startled hard, disbelief and concern scratching under his skin. “What!?! No! No! That’s literally not possible!”

“Why?” Trevor asked him, face gently amused but eyes serious.

“I want you so badly, it hurts sometimes!” The painter earnestly tried to communicate how incredibly desirable the brunette was to him. “It’s such an aching need inside me. Just to touch you, to hold you, it turns me on.”

“Yes, exactly.” Trevor said with obvious satisfaction. “So why don’t you believe you do the same for me?”

Adrian blanked out. What? he thought. It’s not… it’s just that I… I do?

“I can see it in your face sometimes when you are touching me,” Trevor said tenderly and brushed back a lock of blonde hair from the painter’s face. “You think you aren’t measuring up. I want you to know that’s impossible. You are heaven to touch and I feel really lucky to be with you. When you touch me, there is nothing but immense pleasure.”

Love swelled up inside the blonde and he snuggled up into Trevor. “I feel exactly the same way,” he murmured happily.

“Excellent,” Belmont said with satisfaction. “Now, let’s see if I can make you scream.”

--- 

You got the peaches, I got the cream
Sweet to taste, saccharine
Cause I'm hot, so hot, sticky sweet
From my head to my feet
Do you take sugar?
One lump or two?
Take a bottle, shake it up
Break the bubble, break it up
Pour some sugar on me
Ooh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Oh, I can't get enough

-"Pour Some Sugar On Me," Def Leppard

Notes:

Adrian might have. Trevor is very good with his mouth.
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I just want to write smutty fun for the next eight chapters but alas, the plot is calling. There is still fun, angst, reveals and sexy mcsexerson up ahead.
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Thanks to Pexels for the photos. Trevor's torso from Fabio Pelegrino, the kneeling model photo from Alexander Krivitskiy and Adrian model is Emil Andersson.
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Playlist at: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2dcLUyXAN4kzwfpdXYVUN1?si=xLFW6em-Q9isZK8Gy1FQDQ
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An individual whom I really respect alerted me to the fact that RuPaul has publicly demeaned and marginalized trans people. At the time of writing this I was not aware of this and I am really saddened and angry about this behaviour from someone who is perfectly positioned to be an advocate and supporter of our trans friends and family. I debated rewriting and changing this but I don’t want to try to change history to make myself look better, but to take a moment to pass on the education that I received to my readers, as to what the issue actually is and improve upon my ability to give voices to trans-positive programming. I have ceased watching RuPaul’s Drag Race in favor of The Boulet Brother’s Dragula because of this. I would strongly encourage you to examine the issue for yourself and determine how you might best support the communities and representations that are important to you in the world as well 💖

Chapter 23: Always tryin' to keep it under control

Summary:

“Damn it, Adrian! I won’t see you lose something that you love over me! I’m not saying I am not gonna fight this, but I want you out of it! I owe you so much and I can’t stand it already. You cannot do this!” Trevor’s protectiveness and indignation was another bloom in the rosebush of Adrian’s love for him, but this was entirely unnecessary.

“Trevor, you don’t owe…” Adrian said, rising slowly and Belmont gave such a pained sigh it broke his heart.

Motherfucker. I did not want to tell you like this; I was going to find a better way.” Trevor tensed and then in a rush, he said. “Look, you’ve already… You gave me the Tepes scholarship. I am C. Leon.”

Notes:

TW: Emotional hurt/comfort with quick resolution

Dec 8 -It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha joined them in the shower. While it was a fairly tight squeeze, there was something wonderfully sweet about washing her hair while she soaped Trevor’s back. This is how it’s supposed to be, Adrian thought, happier than he could remember being in a very long time. And if it ended up with her quivering between them while she gasped out their names, well, it was a very good morning.

There was a moment around clothes. Sypha was easy, she could just roll up pant legs and shirt sleeves. Trevor was harder. He had a naturally more muscular build and his shoulders were not going to fit into any of Adrian’s shirts. Under normal circumstances the blonde salivated over them but in this moment, he was frustrated by the inability to provide Belmont something fresh to wear.

“It’s fine, I’ll just wear my clothes from yesterday,” Trevor shrugged, nonchalantly. He’d already pulled his jeans on and was hunting for his socks. Adrian, who despised wearing the same clothes twice in a row, simply couldn’t understand it.

“No, I know I have something, just wait a minute,” Adrian replied, “it’s completely uncomfortable and unnecessary for you to wear those.” And if part of why he wanted the sculptor to wear his clothes was a touch of possessiveness, well, that was his business.

He missed Sypha’s eyebrow arch at Belmont and Trevor’s sassy wiggle back as he dug into his chest of drawers. When he happened upon the sweater he snorted. It was a sweater that one of his mother’s cousins had gifted him three Christmases ago and he’d never worn. This was perfect.

“I got it!” he crowed happily and leapt up. Trevor and Sypha were sitting on the bed and talking about their extended media class when they looked over.

“Fuck, yes!” Sypha laughed out and Trevor’s face underwent several degrees of disbelief, terror and then such comic anxiety that the painter struggled to not give the game away. If you had any idea how charmingly gorgeous you are, Adrian thought, I would be in even deeper trouble than I already am.

“What?” Adrian asked innocently, “I think Trevor will look very sexy in this.” He batted his lashes at the sculptor, who was clearly trying very hard for a neutral expression.

“I’m not really a sweater guy and it’s very um, beige,” Trevor managed weakly and Sypha snickered.

“I think you should try it on,” the redhead coaxed and took it from Adrian. “Oh! It’s so soft! Is this cashmere?” she asked and Tepes, who’d been trying to hide his grin behind a thoughtfully placed hand, could only nod.

“It’s a cable knit, exclusive holiday design from Armani,” he managed to get out relatively deadpan.

Trevor shook his head. “That’s expensive and I will get something on it for sure.” He looked inspired, “Actually, I have to go into the studio and it might catch fire! Surely you have like a black t-shirt or like, anything else?"

Not a chance, love, Adrian thought with mirth, I’m not saying anything until you put it on. “Oh, that’s totally alright, I haven’t worn it. The color is terrible on me but I bet it would look wonderful on you! Try it on,” he tried his best doe-eyes. They had worked before, like when he was eight and decided to color in the design on the Oriental carpet in his father’s study with his paints. “Please?” he asked with a pleading tone.

Watching Trevor’s internal struggle was terribly amusing and touchingly sweet. The sculptor’s hands flexed on his knees. “Look at his face,” Sypha murmured to Belmont in a stage whisper, “you can’t let Adrian down.” She winked at Tepes.

With a heartfelt sigh, Belmont put out his hand for it, stood and tugged it on. He made a high, sad sound when he caught a glance in the mirror. “I look like Scott Kardashian and I hate myself,” Trevor muttered. Adrian couldn’t hold his laugh in and exploded. It actually looked good on him, but was totally not Trevor at all.

“I’m sorry! I know! I know it isn’t your style, but holy,” the blonde wheezed, “that is amazing and you are such a good sport! Imagine having to open it in front of your cousin and say thank you! You did better than I did!”

“Fuck you, Legs, I’m gonna get you so good for this, I swear,” Trevor grumbled and reached for the edge of the sweater.

Adrian put out a hand and ran it along the bicep that rippled enticingly under the soft fabric. Trevor's shoulders did fit in it. Barely. “Do you promise?” he asked, looking at Belmont through his lashes.

It was like the sculptor’s brussels sprouts had been traded for ice cream. He leaned into Adrian and positively purred into the painter’s mouth, “Oh babe, I vow it,” he said and tugged Adrian’s hair back. Setting his teeth to the blonde’s jaw, he nibbled.

This is insane, how can I want him again already? Adrian thought as each rasp of Trevor’s teeth caused uncontrolled shivers. He clutched Belmont close and laced his fingers through his hair.

A camera flash broke the moment and Sypha murmured unhappily. “Shit, sorry! I just wanted to get Trevor in that sweater, so I could blackm—” She was already running as Belmont dived for her.

When the painter stepped forward to join them, his toe hit something that skittered across the floor. Adrian went down on his hands and knees to see it and saw the glint of metal under his bed. It took some reaching, but he got it. Pulling it out, he realized he had the tiny, hook-like blade that Trevor had pulled on him when they’d first met.

Why does he have this? Adrian wondered and turned it over in his hand. It was clearly handmade, somewhat crude in rendering but cleverly designed. It could be looped around a finger and hidden in your palm with ease. He carries this all the time then, Adrian thought. Why?  This wasn't a pocket knife, it was more like...a concealable weapon. Something about it gave him a chill and he slipped it into his pocket.

The blonde took a minute, listening to them barter out in the living room. There was clearly some piece of furniture between them. Sypha was finally persuaded to never share said photo with anyone in exchange for what sounded like an anatomically impossible position in a semi-public setting of her choice. The painter wasn’t sure who won that round, but the joy in his heart could have powered the entire block he lived on.

Breakfast was tremendous fun. Trevor had rescued dinner off the table last night after he’d tucked them in. When Adrian had asked how he’d had the energy, Trevor had just smirked and said he should have believed Sypha about his stamina. Unable to resist, Adrian had quipped that he’d believe it when he rode it. He had successfully dodged Belmont’s fast grab, only to be cornered and spanked by Sypha. No one had believed his squirming was an attempt to get away.

It’d been a pleasure to throw together a breakfast scramble with the leftover salmon and potatoes and add chives and eggs. It was so much more fun to cook for someone else, especially when they took such obvious pleasure from it.

He watched his lovers devour it with the leftover fruit while discussing what their day would look like. When Trevor asked him what class he was TA-ing today, Adrian had suddenly remembered Shaft and blanched.

“Adrian! What is it?” Sypha had asked alarmed and half way out of her chair.

The painter shook his head and waved her back. Taking a deep breath, he started to tell them. Trevor’s face was hard to look at; dangerous fury flaming off of him. Tepes stopped twice to tell him he was okay and this story would end well, but the sculptor was vibrating by the time the TA got to the conversation outside of the classroom with Shaft yesterday. “Adrian, stop. Just stop. You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”

Confused, Adrian stopped and looked at him, “Do what?”

“I know you; you stood up for me. That bastard would have fired you and you would have let him. You need to call him and tell him that you—” Adrian shook his head and Trevor exploded, pushing back from the table, rearing to his feet and raking his hand through his damp hair.

“Damn it, Adrian! I won’t see you lose something that you love over me! I’m not saying I am not gonna fight this, but I want you out of it! Shaft will take it personally, if he hasn’t already. He’s in your fucking department, he will make your life a living hell and I can’t let that happen! I owe you so much and I can’t stand it already. You cannot do this!” Trevor’s protectiveness and indignation was another bloom in the rosebush of Adrian’s love for him, but this was entirely unnecessary.

“Trevor, you don’t owe…” Adrian said, rising slowly and Belmont gave such a pained sigh it broke his heart. You don’t have to feel this way, the painter thought and put out his hand. It’s alright already, and you don’t even know

Motherfucker. I did not want to tell you like this; I was going to find a better way.” Trevor tensed and then in a rush, he said. “Look, you’ve already… You gave me the Tepes scholarship. I am C. Leon.”

Dimly, Adrian was aware of Sypha’s hiss, but it held no meaning for him. Trevor? Trevor was C. Leon? Pleasure slithered in a giant tentacle around his shock. Of course he was. That level of talent and creativity? It makes so much sense, I can’t believe I didn’t— Wait. Tepes money. The money Belmont had always belittled, from the family he sneered at. The money he adamantly stated he didn't want and would never take.

What was rising up in the blonde was ugly and blotting out the sunshine he’d been basking in. What was breaking apart inside of him made him want to crawl away into the shadows that stretched endlessly ahead. “You… you always said that you didn’t want my money,” he whispered it, afraid that if he raised his voice, he might lose control.  

“Adrian,” Sypha said softly, and Trevor shook his head at her, eyes on the painter.

“I swear, I didn’t know it was your money, not until after Issac and Godbrand came to the classroom. It wasn’t—I didn’t. I know how it might seem, but…” the brunette raked his hands through his beautiful hair.

I love you, Adrian thought. I thought that was enough. I thought I was enough. He hated that he wanted to cling to that more than this hideous truth. But he was a Tepes and he had pride.

“Adrian, I thought the scholarship money… I didn’t know.” Trevor hissed in frustration. “I thought it was your father’s.”

Adrian’s laugh was bitter and broken. “That’s worse,” he said and felt a numbness creeping out from his guts. I never want to be used to get to Father. Not that. I am not him. “I couldn’t buy you, but my father could?”

Trevor’s head snapped up, fury distorting his face and he snarled, “No one fucking bought me, least of all Vlad Tepes! I made a choice to apply for a scholarship that happened to have his name on it! I didn’t even know you when I did it! Ever since I met you, you’re the one throwing your money around! I’ve never asked for anything from you!”

Adrian’s pride took huge bites of his grief. “Why would you? You already got what you wanted!”

Trevor took a step forward, fists clenched and hissed, “Have I, Adrian? Are you so sure?”

Adrian felt like he’d been slapped. What does that mean? He wondered. He looked at Trevor’s tense frame and fisted hands. Fucking hit me then, it would hurt less than this, and the words came. “You made me ashamed of who I am! I doubted everything and felt like I was wrong for trying to help you! You fucking guilted me about it! Oh, how you must have laughed at stupid, pliable Alucard Tepes and his pathetic little crush on Trevor fucking Bel—!”

“STOP!” Sypha screamed at the top of her lungs and both men jumped. The redhead was standing on her chair and glaring down at them across the table. “Shut the fuck up, both of you, good God, just stop. This is horrible and you are saying awful things just to hurt each other! Just LISTEN!” Her stare drilled into both of them.

“Both of you have horrible hang ups about money and it’s going to stop!” She stomped to emphasize it. “Right fucking now!"

She was still yelling as she turned and stabbed a finger at the blonde. “Adrian! Trevor is trying to protect you from Shaft, remember?!” The painter stared at her. That detail waded back to him over the lake of pain he was swimming in. She continued, “I’m gonna break a promise to Trevor and you’d damn well better make it worth it.” The brunette made an alarmed noise and she barreled on. “He’s wanted to tell you this for a while but he was afraid of your reaction.”

“What?” Adrian whispered. “You knew?”

“Yes! I knew but I respected that he needed to tell you himself. Trevor was terrified you would think he wanted your money, when in fact it’s the one thing he would never ask for! He genuinely thought the scholarship was some kind of bequest parceled out by a committee. He needed it so he could stop destroying his body with fighting just so he could afford to be here. You,” she shook her head at him, “never want to be used for your money, but then get your back up when someone accepts what you’ve offered?”  

“You should have seen him when he realized it was you,” her face was filled with sadness and wonder. “Proud, flattered, humbled, delighted and so, so, scared. I told him he should ask for your help next year and he flat out refused. He didn’t want you to think that’s why he was interested. The man cares about you, and you and I both know you would have helped him if he but asked! But he didn’t want your money. He didn’t want you to ever think he wanted anything but you!!”

She took a quick breath, long enough for Adrian’s temper to start to crumble. What have I done? he thought. She is right. She is completely right and I have let my own bullshit ruin this. I let my pride matter more than my love.

You,” she pointed at Trevor, “never want anyone to assume money matters to you! That you are human and need help! You would never sacrifice your principles for it, and that is so admirable, but rather than just say that, you’ll cut off your nose to spite your face! Just tell him how you feel and ignore his money. If it makes you uncomfortable, tell him that. Don’t let him think that you used him; that’s far worse than anything else he might think about your finances!! Is your pride worth losing him forever? Because that’s how this would play out and frankly, the dumbest shit I have ever heard!”

She took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm herself. Quieter, but no less passionate, Sypha looked at them. “Take two fucking seconds and realize that your fears are well matched! Trevor will never use you for your money or your connections because that would sicken him. He has too much damned integrity to do that. He probably should because he could use the fucking help but he won’t.”

She whirled to Belmont, “And Trevor, Adrian would never try own or control you with his money—has he ever asked you to repay anything, even after you scorned him? You told him about the scholarship and his first response was fear that was all you wanted from him, not that you owed him now! For fuck’s sake, he could have used his affluence or money with Shaft, but he fell on his sword instead. He gives you things like the lawyer and food and does the scholarship because he cares deeply about sharing what he has to make a difference.”

She stomped again. “Both of you are ridiculous and infuriating and I love you so damned much, but right now, I just want to be happy! We are going to be fucking happy or I swear something violent is gonna happen!" She stabbed at their chairs with her index fingers. "Now sit!”

They sat.

Sypha seized her mug of tea and took a huge swallow. Belmont stared at his plate and there was a long moment of tense silence. Suddenly, Trevor said, “I feel like my mother just scolded me for sneaking all my Halloween candy and making myself sick. But I am also kinda turned on right now, and the two together is weirding me out.”

“Hard same,” Adrian said, eyes on his hands, and couldn’t help his snicker. It was wonderful elation when Trevor joined in, a warm hug reaching out to the blonde inside Belmont’s laugh. Sypha surveyed them calmly over her mug and arched a brow.

“I don’t think I have ever been told off in such a sexy and classy way.” Trevor said with admiration and a chuckle that rumbled through him. He fisted his hands on his hips and mimicked Sypha's voice, “We are gonna be fucking happy!”

“Or else!” Adrian tossed back with a grin.

“You fucking dicks!” Trevor cackled.

“Stupid men and their stupid drama!” Adrian wheezed, tears leaking from his eyes.

“Now kiss!” Trevor howled, smacking his palms together dramatically.

“I’m in favor of that,” Sypha said coolly, and took a sip. “And stupid men had better be grateful that their mouths are good for other things besides talking.”

Trevor pounded his fist on the table and laughed until he couldn’t breathe. Adrian was holding his sides and crying with laughter. “Stop! Stop! It hurts, owww!” Adrian gasped, the stitch in his side aching. It didn’t help that every time he looked up, he saw Sypha casually consuming her breakfast and shaking her head.

He didn’t use me, whispered his heart, the truth of it weaving between the almost-hysterically relieved howling. He really doesn’t care about my money or my family’s affluence, in a good or a bad way. I am just Adrian to him. It kept lapping at him, washing away the humor and leaving the pain of the words he used to wound the man he loved.  His tears of laughter slowly turned into tears of shame and he abruptly stood.

Trevor looked up, the smile on his face slowly dropping. “I’m sorry,” the blonde whispered. “I’m so sorry, she’s right.” If only you would reach for me, the painter thought and knew he didn’t deserve it. He tried to wipe his tears away again. “Fuck, I’m such an ass, I do have such a stupid hang up and I shouldn’t have—”

Belmont pushed back from the table and opened his arms. “Legs, don’t—”  He would hold me still, Adrian thought and rushed to him. This time, climbing into the sculptor’s lap was as comfortable as breathing. This time there was no embarrassment, only security and aching relief. I don’t deserve you, but oh, I am so grateful you would be here with me, he thought.

Trevor stroked his hair and listened to Adrian’s half-coherent apology that rambled into his past experiences with ‘friends’ who were friends until they revealed their actual agendas. He got side-tracked into how much he loved his father and didn’t want to be part of that world but would never really escape it. About how glamorous such a lifestyle appeared but it was actually a hideous trap where even the tiniest mistake could be humiliation that you would never escape from.

By the time he’d finished, Sypha had seated herself beside Trevor and was stroking the blonde’s leg and passing him Kleenex. “Wow, I need to shut up,” Adrian said tiredly. “All of that just sounds like the lamest excuse and has nothing to do with the fact that I never should have assumed anything about you and I’ve done it too many times now. All I can offer you is my apology. Again. I am sorry. More than you know. It’s a me problem, not you.”

Trevor tilted his head up and looked at him. The painter winced. I bet I look hideous, he thought. “Do you know how much you are not a problem to me? I want to know everything about you and here you are, apologizing for letting me get to know you. Do you remember how I told you that you didn’t share your secrets?” Adrian felt stricken and he sniffled again.

“I was wrong, Adrian. I was so, so wrong and I am sorry. You’ve shared your secrets all along. I’m the one who let them build up between us and I shouldn’t have. That is my fault and I am sorry. There are things I need to tell you and I—” Adrian’s ass started to vibrate and they both jumped. He leaned to the side to retrieve his cellphone.

“I’ll turn it off, one—” he looked at the screen. “Oh, it’s my mother! I’ll just answer and ask to call her back or she’ll just call again. One second, I’m sorry.” Trevor smiled, rubbing the painter’s thigh.

“Hello, Mother,” Adrian said as he engaged the call.

“Hi Lisa!” Sypha yelled happily, “I miss you!” The delighted, low laugh of his mother echoed in his ear.

“Tell that lovely woman hello back from me, please!” Lisa said. Adrian handed the phone to Sypha, taking the moment to dry his eyes and inhale deeply. Trevor kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.

“Don’t cry, Legs, we were both wrong. Thank God for her, hey?” Adrian nodded, emotions still knitting back together. He leaned into Trevor’s hair petting and sighed. Thank God for you both, he thought and wished he was brave enough to say it.

Sypha chattered happily and then paused, eyes flying to Adrian’s. “Um, no, I think it must have slipped his mind? Hang on, I will check with him, but I would totally love to! Would—my boyfriend? Ohhh, Trevor! Yes,” she cleared her throat, “that boyfriend, the Belmont boyfriend, of course.” She laughed. “Yes, of course, what other boyfriend is there?” Her eyes were huge on Adrian’s, and he snickered quietly.

Oh lord, he thought, Mother. Then he remembered Vlad’s invitation and stilled. That was probably what she was asking Sypha about. I don’t know if this is a good idea. Father can be… but Sypha was already asking him.

“You forgot to ask us to come home with you this weekend, didn’t you? You must have,” she arched a brow, “had your hands full?” Her grin was huge. “I am game for it; I can do my class work in the car.” She looked up. “Trevor? Do you have anything?”

Adrian held his breath, but Trevor’s hand never paused in its strokes. “Just make sure I eat with the right fork and it should be cool.” The blonde’s eyes jerked up to Trevor’s face but he was looking at Sypha. You’d come home with me, the painter thought and released the breath he’d been holding.

Sypha laughed and uncovered the phone. “We are in! Yes, absolutely— oh, we’ll share a room please. Yep, in Adrian’s wing would be perfect! Um, hang on, sorry.”  She looked at them again. “She wants to stock the bar in the room guys, any requests?”

Adrian felt Trevor’s subtle tense and closed his eyes. It’s just her way, he thought. The thin, scalpel edge of dejection was keenly sharp against his delight to share Belmont with his parents. Would you ever trust it? he wondered. Is it fair to expect him to? I mean you did just jump all over him.

“Sunchips would be really nice, actually,” Trevor said, “and maybe Adrian will finally eat the ones I bought him then too. Tell her thank you, please.” Sypha grinned and nodded.

“Hey Lisa, Sunchips have been requested, please and thank you. Actually, he didn’t ask for it but Trevor seemed to really like that beer you sent home with Addy last—Yep! He shared the Copain and I felt utterly spoiled, thank you so much. I know, I always think of that too. It was tremendously fun and I think we should do it again. I still have the sketch you did of Adrian as an emo teen. It’s too bad the Pictionary paper was so thin because I tried to scan it high-res…”

The blonde tuned it out as he looked at the warm, stubbled jaw above him and the beautifully corded throat his nose was tucked against. I need to do better by him, Adrian thought. He just gave me so much and I need to acknowledge that.  He leaned into the tanned throat and gave a gentle kiss. “Mmm, kitten kisses, I can go for those,” Trevor said and looked down at him, stunning and sensual.

“Thank you,” the painter said, “for being willing to meet them.” Thank you for giving me another chance, he added on silently. Thank you for forgiving me so easily.

“It’s not a big deal. It will be nice,” Belmont started, but Adrian put his hand over his mouth and just looked at him. Tracing his fingertip over the pink and white exclamation point that framed the fractured ice-blue eyes and brushing his fingertips over lashes, cheekbones and finally lips; Tepes trembled.

“It is a big deal to me. I love them and I… care, a great deal, for you.” Coward, his brain snapped at him but their fight had left him shaken and raw. “I want to share you with them. I want you to see how it really is with my family and not just what’s been printed and photographed.”

Trevor’s smile was a little sad and his gaze slid away. “I want to be a part of your life and I know that your family is an important aspect of that.” When his eyes came back up, the sadness was gone and wicked humor was in there. “Besides, there’s gotta be some premium spots to fuck in that place, right?”

Adrian laughed and give him a sassy smirk. “Wait until you see the pool. Uh, pools.”

Trevor groaned, “Oh snap, pool sex is a long-time dream.”

“It wasn’t for me, until right about now,” Adrian murmured and a prickle of anticipation skated over his skin.

---

I've been lonely, I've been waitin' for you
I'm pretending and that's all I can do
The love I'm sendin'
Ain't makin' it through to your heart
You've been hidin', never lettin' it show
Always tryin' to keep it under control
You got it down and you're well on your way to the top
But there's somethin' that you forgot
What about love?
Don't you want someone to care about you?
And what about love?
Don't let it slip away
What about love?
I only want to share it with you

-"What About Love?" Heart

Notes:

One secret down for Trevor. But who is holding the biggest secret of them all?
---
Thanks to Alexander Ant for that fabulously 80's background. Photographer for Sypha is Anna Grekova, photographer for Adrian is Alexander Krivitskiy and Trevor model is Dylan Rieder.

Chapter 24: Whatever it takes or how my heart breaks

Summary:

“He told me he loved me last night,” Trevor said with such bitter grief that the small, furry creature of Sypha’s heart curled into a protective ball. “I thought…I hoped…,” he shook his head. “I should be grateful he said he cared about me after that fight, but all I could think was that I’d been wrong to think it meant anything in the first place. He was half-asleep, it was his first time, he didn’t know what he was saying and it’s impossible.

Notes:

Dec 10 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha watched Adrian finish up the sandwiches and place them in the paper bags. He’d insisted on making them both lunches as he was assembling his. “Okay, there you go. Lunches are ready and we’ll meet up at 12:30 at Trevor’s studio so I can stalk C. Leon’s work and fawn over it, right?”

“You need to get moving,” she reminded the blonde for what felt like the twelfth time. “Your class starts in 25 minutes and you are never late.” Don’t start now, she thought, not with yesterday hanging over your head.

She didn’t want to say anything but she was worried about the implications for his work as a TA. He’d finally finished telling them what happened and it’d been a huge relief to know Shaft was gone. She was torn between being wanting to bring cupcakes to every student in Adrian’s class and being tremendously uneasy about how Shaft had snapped.

When Adrian had recounted the destruction to the room, Trevor’s shoulders had clenched and Sypha knew he had a death grip under the table. His eyes flew to hers and she gave the tiniest nod. They were both thinking about what might have happened if Adrian had still been there. Her stomach rolled.

“I need to clean—” Adrian started as he wrapped up the baguette and Trevor cut in.

“You cooked. We’ll clean. Don’t worry. We’ll see you at the lab and you can tell me how amazing I am.” He grinned, “I look forward to showing my appreciation for the crits.”

“Hey, maybe I will have some tips for improvement, you never know,” Adrian said drily.

“I’ll take more than the tip, babe but we could start with that. Either way, dick always improves the atmosphere of the studio.” Hey! she thought, and punched him. “What? It did for you too, admit it!” he protested.

Adrian’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask. Later, Addy! She thought and interrupted, “Twenty-three minutes now!”

The blonde nodded reluctantly and headed toward the door. The brunette and the redhead trailed after him. “Would you like the… oh surprise, black sweater? or the, hmm, shockingly black jacket?” Trevor asked him playfully.

“I don’t want either. I want to stay! I want to snuggle between the two of you and make out. Hell, I would even settle for the tip right about now.” He looked at them both and pouted. “I could skip class. I know you two are gonna stay here and—”

Sypha yanked the sweater from Trevor and flung it at Adrian. “You’ve never skipped in your life and I know you love this class. We won’t do anything too exciting, and if we do, we’ll send you some sexts, ok?”

Adrian’s brows were in the stratosphere, and he almost squeaked, “You’d send me pictures of you two having sex?”

Twenty minutes, for fuck’s sake Addy! Run!” Sypha said with a laugh.

“But the nudes…!” He protested with a half-laugh, half-whine as she shoved him out the door.

“Yes! I promise to text if anything happens!!” She shouted down the hallway and he gave a victory arm raise as he jogged away.

When she closed the door and turned, Trevor was gone. What the hell? she thought and looked from side to side. She heard the dishes being cleared and grinned. If he wanted to do the dishes, far be it for me to…

Son of a bitch,” Trevor hissed, and she could hear it in his voice. Fury, despair, disgust.

Oh shit, she thought and bolted for the dining room. When she came around the corner, she saw the rigid set of his shoulders and the painful grip he had on the back of the chair. He’d started to stack the dishes but then put them down. “Trevor, talk to me,” she said carefully, crossing over to his back. He didn’t turn to look at her, instead, he was transfixed by the pile of plates stacked on top of each other.

“What would have happened?” he asked her in a tight whisper. “If he’d been in that room? If that fucker had—” Trevor shuddered. “I put him in danger, Sypha and I never would have been able to live—”

“Shaft is not your fault, don’t say that. That is entirely that fucker’s own issue,” Sypha said. “And Adrian wasn’t hurt. He is safe and it’s over.”

“Is it?” He asked her, voice thickening. “What would have happened now, if you weren’t here?” Oh Trevor, she thought, looking at the whites of his knuckles. “Why can’t I ever say the right thing to him, Sypha? Why do I keep fucking this up!” He slapped the chair back hard and it skittered, despite being caught under his other hand.

“Because he matters to you, Trevor,” she told him. “The more he matters to you, the harder these things become. The more it means to say them and the more invested you are in the outcome. You were right to tell him, it was just the timing and the situation. This was not your fault; he said some terrible things to you.”

“He told me he loved me last night,” Trevor said with such bitter grief that the small, furry creature of Sypha’s heart curled into a protective ball. “I thought…I hoped…,” he shook his head. “I should be grateful he said he cared about me after that fight, but all I could think was that I’d been wrong to think it meant anything in the first place. He was half-asleep, it was his first time, he didn’t know what he was saying and it’s impossible.”

Sypha’s head felt like it would fall off, she was shaking it so hard. “No, Trevor! No, if he said it, he meant it! Adrian doesn’t throw the word ‘love’ around, ever. And really, is it such a surprise? He wouldn’t have gotten into bed with you, asked you to live with him, have you meet his parents, unless he did.” Tell him, she thought, he has the right to know.

“I’m conflicted about telling you this. Lisa, Adrian’s mother, told me,” Sypha rubbed her forehead, “ so I’m technically not breaking confidence here. However, I want your word that you won’t ever bring this up, even in a fight.”

He finally turned to look at her and Sypha moaned forlornly. Trevor wasn’t crying but he was close. “Let him keep his secrets, Sypha. God knows I have, and I've brought nothing but misery to him.”

Oh my dearest, no, she thought and wrapped herself around him. There were no judgements or questions from her and she felt his large frame quake against her. “It’s alright love,” she told him, “You are here with me. You are safe, I have you.” There was a wetness on her shoulder and Sypha tightened her grip.

She was used to Adrian’s tears. He never let them out in public, but she’d discovered that he was incredibly tender-hearted and sensitive in private. But Trevor’s tears were a new part of him for her and it was heart-breaking. He acted like they were acid, wiping them away on her shoulder hard enough that she was worried he might abrade his skin. It’s like he is punishing himself for crying, she thought and drew him firmly down to the floor with her.

He resisted climbing into her lap, so she pushed him back and draped herself over him, half-spooning, half-covering him. “I love you.” She told him. “Crying is a good thing. Let it out. You are safe here.”

“Damn it, Sypha, I don’t want to cry. I hate crying. It solves nothing and it’s weak,” Trevor tried to snarl but it came out far more pleading than she was sure he would have liked.

“That’s not true,” she said calmly. “I know you don’t look at Adrian or I, and think we are weak when we cry. So why would you think that about yourself?”

“I’ve never seen you cry and Adrian? He’s different, it’s just a natural part of who he is! His crying is a sign of his resiliency. For me, it’s weakness. I couldn’t cry, there was no time and it wasn’t safe. You have to… be tough, hold it in. I can’t be afraid… don’t show that you are.”

“Everyone is afraid at some point, Trevor,” Sypha whispered, stroking his hair. He crumpled like a discarded coffee cup.

“Oh my God, I love him, Sypha and I can’t do this. I will never be what he needs and if he got hurt because of me… I can’t…” That’s two for two, she thought as her joy and sorrow twirled together. Now if only they would tell each other and fucking hear it, as the truth it is!

“You already are what he needs, Trevor. Did you two fight? Yep. Did you say you were sorry and forgive each other? Yep. Did he go to you immediately for comfort? Yep. That tells you everything! That’s what happens when people love each other.” She kissed his shoulder. “What’s important is you didn’t give up or let it fester. You trusted each other in the end.” She stroked his hair, just as she’d seen him do to Adrian. “What I cannot believe is how tender you are with him and with me and how cruel you are to yourself. Why Trevor? Why not give yourself what you give to us?”

“It’s not the same Sypha. You two, you are beautiful." His voice was thick and he coughed. "What I’ve done, who I’ve had to be? It’s ugly. There is real ugliness there.”

“What you’ve done is survive. Whatever it was, whether you want to tell me or not, I am grateful for it and I would ask you to do it again.” He jerked, hard and stared at her in disbelief.

“You don’t know what you are saying,” he said.

“Did you murder anyone?” He looked so pained she felt a moment of dread.

“You heard about my parents…” he whispered with a broken mutter, eyes sliding away from hers.

“So that’s a no, then,” she said firmly. “Have you raped anyone?” He made a horribly revolted noise and shook his head hard. “Then there is nothing you could have done that would give me pause. Anything and everything you’d done to get here, brought you to me the way that you are.” She brought his chin up and looked him in his eyes. “And I love you for who you are, not who you think I want you to be.”

Tears tracked down his cheeks and the endless blue beckoned an inner hell that hurt her in every molecule and neuron. She stroked his cheek. “And whether you know it or not, so does Adrian.” Trevor shuddered against her and his grip grew painfully tight. “Let me show you, Trevor." She asked him, "Let me love you.”

Sypha took his mouth in a gentle slide of lips and tongue and tasted deep grief. “Let it go my love; be with me here and now,” she coaxed against his mouth. She stroked his face and his hair soothingly, willing him to breath with her, let him ease into what she was offering.

His breath hitched and the sun cast little sparkles of eternity across their joined forms. “Sypha,” he murmured against her and sighed. Yes, she thought, you are mine and what once was cannot have you anymore. In this moment, only I can touch you. You belong to me.

“I am here and I want you now and always,” she said and rose up over him. Eyes on his, she unbuttoned his shirt and placed her hand on his heart. “You are everything to me.” His face made her want to weep. Adrian wasn’t the only one who questioned his worth. With Trevor it was easier to miss because he hid it with humor and temper, but the fearful yearning etched on his face couldn’t spell it out clearer.

So let us be plain, she thought and bent to kiss him. When her lips touched his throat, he groaned and it was like the wail of a violin just before the bow strings broke. Clean, sharp and edged with that sound of shattered tension, she felt his surrender to her and could have wept. That’s it, find yourself in me. Accept the truth I would give you, she thought.

Careful caresses down his torso drew quiet moans and sharp gasps. When he reached for her, she softly brought his hand to her mouth. “Let me give you this, please. Let me adore you.”

“I love you,” he whispered to her. She gave him the words back and touched his flesh with reverence. Every piece of clothing that parted was another barrier that peacefully lay down under her love. Each stroke of her fingertips built palaces of devotion over old scars. Her lips planted forests of trust that allowed all shame to retire and rest. Under her hands, she mapped every space of grief and built altars for their future.

When all clothes were stripped away and they knelt, faces cradled in each other’s hands, she told him again. “I love you and everything you are. You, Trevor Belmont, hold my heart and I trust you with it.” Hear me and believe it, she thought.

Under the warmth of the sun, he stroked her like she was salvation itself. She could feel everything there was to say in his touch. “You make me believe it was all worth it, because it brought me here, to this moment with you,” he said, raw emotion underscoring the words. She laced her hands with his and slid into his lap.

Eyes on his, she rocked gently into him, yielding welcome as he slipped inside her. “Trevor,” she whispered and arched against him, taking him deep. The speed built between them as desperate need outpaced soft surrender. But the tenderness remained, cocooning them in this space of magic and light. When Sypha cried out his name and shattered above him, she held onto him tight. She didn’t let go, even as the storm of heat and urgency took them both tumbling over the cliff together.

Languid and peaceful, they lay together. “We have a problem,” Trevor mumbled under her, rousing her from the half-sleep state she'd fallen into after they'd collapsed.

“You are still inside me, I came twice and the sun feels great. I fail to see the problem,” Sypha huffed back.

“We promised Adrian we weren’t gonna do this,” Trevor said, lazily squeezing her ass and dipping his fingertips into the dark cleft.

Damn it, she thought with sleepy awakening. He was right and— A slow grin spread across her face. “Actually Belmont, we didn't say that. We promised him pictures if we did.”

Trevor opened one eye and peered at her, matching her grin. “Where's your phone?" She leaned over to the pocket of her shirt and grabbed it. "You said you came twice?” he asked her as he reached between them. She could only moan as his fingers traced over her. “I think we can do better,” he purred happily.

---

Adrian’s grin lasted all the way to campus. He was unlocking his studio door to grab his portfolio for his class when Grant popped out. “There you are!” his friend hissed and looked around. “Get in here!”

Startled, Adrian crossed the hallway and Grant yanked him in and whirled. “Hasn’t anyone said anything to you?”

Confused Adrian shook his head, “About what?”

“About yesterday! About you and Belmont! About everything! It's all over campus! Charlotte was here looking for you to talk about it!" Grant’s eyes were huge and he was gesticulating wildly.

Adrian blanched out and felt his cheeks burn. “Oh my God, are you serious?! How can anyone know?! I mean, it’s been less than a day and it was just the three of us! Trevor and Sypha are still at home and I just got here! Is nothing private anymore?!”

“Wait, what?” Grant asked him confused, and then dawning realization made his eyes huge. “Wait! You fucked Belmont?!? And Sypha!! Dude! I need all the dets! Holy shit this is-!”

Adrian wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Me and my fucking mouth, he thought. “What were you talking about?” he asked Grant weakly.

“Fuck that, I want to hear about your threesome!" Grant waved frantically, eyes huge. "You lost your virginity in a—”

Grant!,” Adrian hissed and made a shushing motion, looking around wildly.

“Sorry!” he whispered back, “But that is totally epic goals! They are both so fucking hot and you are the luckiest son of a bitch.” His friend groaned needfully. “Just tell me that Sypha got on top! I’m gay as hell and I would go down on her in a heartbeat. Like, she just seems so commanding. I just want her to step on my balls and tell me I like it.”

Adrian just stared at him. “Grant, what the hell—?” he started to ask, alarmed and also faintly intrigued.

“Wait, wait!” Grant interrupted excitedly. “I just want to know; did you pitch or catch? I feel like Belmont is a pitcher, no offense, I just got that vibe—”

“Grant!!” Adrian yelped. “I cannot believe you would—”

“Adrian, seriously stop holding out,” Grant said indignantly. “Give me something at least, I mean, like, how big is he?”

Out of nowhere Adrian suddenly got the image of a genoa salami. He inadvertently snickered, “Let’s just say that I’ll never look at genoa the same way ever again.”

Grant groaned, “I fucking knew it, he’s so built, like old school Paul Newman or Marlon Brando or some shit. I bet your jaw broke in half. Can you even sit down?”

Adrian gave up and burst out laughing. After a moment Grant joined him. “I’m sorry," his friend said. "I am just so jealous. When you two were on the floor, well, his pants didn't leave much left to the imagination and he has dick for dayyyyys. There are practically no interesting lays on campus this year and you bagged two of them. You are blessed, I swear.”

Adrian felt a weird sense of pride. “Trevor’s amazing, in all sorts of ways. Sypha is equally and um, just as you might imagine. I understand on both accounts and I agree, I am so very lucky. But really, what were you trying tell me before?”

Grant looked blankly and him for a moment. It was like watching an accelerated art render video, as he remembered. “You’ve been promoted to sessional lecturer!” he blurted out breathlessly.

The painter’s breath whooshed out and he hissed, “What the fuck?! That’s impossible!” Tepes was only a junior. Sessionals were graduates or very, very rarely, seniors. A junior was unheard of.

Grant gaped. “You swore. You never swear.”

Seriously, the painter thought, people need to stop. I am a grown man, I can swear!

Grant’s smile was a little wicked. “One night with Belmont and Sypha and you’re doing threesomes and throwing the F-word around… do you smoke now too?”

“Shut up Danasty and tell me what you know!” Quickly Grant sketched it out. Shaft had been fired without severance or payout. All the other professors had a full load and his students had unanimously agreed that they wanted him as their teacher, even filling out a survey so it was on record. Charlotte herself would over see Adrian’s teaching and grading and would be working with him to ensure impartiality and syllabus standards would be kept.

Just as Grant was winding down, Adrian's phone chimed. The painter's head was reeling as he absently withdrew his cell, put his thumb over the lock and looked down. “Holy shit!” he hissed and quickly jerked it to his chest. She actually did it, he thought and immediately needed to get somewhere private.

“Hey, you alright? What’s going—are you blushing?” Grant asked him as concern merged into amusement. “What was in the text?”

“Umm, nothing.” Just an overhead view of Trevor going down on Sypha while she smirked into the camera and he grinned around his busy tongue. “Grocery list.” Adrian mumbled sheepishly. She’d captioned it, “Class is in session,” and all he wanted to do was be in class right now. Maybe kneeling with the other student and alternating licks—

Danasty looked at him suspiciously. “A grocery list that makes you blush like that?”

“We are really late for class, we should go," Adrian couldn't meet his eyes and flushed deeper. "I um, need to go to the bathroom, could you please let the prof know I’ll be right—”

Grant’s grin was huge and shit-eating. “You got a fucking nude.” Adrian couldn’t help his small swallow. Grant’s jaw dropped and there was a distinctly envious pitch to his voice. “You got one of both of them!”

“What am I, wearing a sign?” Adrian said under his breath. His phone buzzed again and it took everything in him not to see what else Sypha had sent. As soon as I am alone, he thought.

Grant grinned and slapped his knee. “I cannot believe it and I am in love. You don’t even know how lucky you are.”

That brought a pang to the blonde’s heart and he managed a smile. “Actually, I really do.” And I won’t forget it again, he vowed.

--- 

I wonder how we can survive
This romance
But in the end if I'm with you
I'll take the chance
Oh, can't you see it, baby
You've got me going crazy
Wherever you go, whatever you do
I will be right here waiting for you
Whatever it takes or how my heart breaks
I will be right here waiting for you

-"Right Here Waiting," Richard Marx

Notes:

I desperately wanted to use "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye for this chapter but couldn't stop laughing long enough to even look up the lyrics...
---
Background: @scotty_webb (Twitter), color panels:@bruthethe, close-up bodies: @a_krivitskiy (Twitter). Adrian model: Erik Andersson.

Chapter 25: And I got all the symptoms, count 'em one, two, three

Summary:

“Hector! Good to hear from you, how ya doing?” Trevor asked, ducking into one of the niches with a stone bench. He set down his loads and paced.

“Lovely, thank you.” Hector was as placid as a lake at sunset. “I am very much looking forward to your showing next Friday. I am eager for you to meet Ms. Styria and have an opportunity to meet more of the local artistic community.”

“Yeah, about that actually,” Trevor said easily. “What can you tell me about Carmilla? I’ve heard some things and they aren’t good.”

There was a poignant pause at the end of the line and then Hector delicately cleared his throat. “Exactly what have you heard?” the man asked and there was a note of disapproval there that set Trevor’s teeth on edge.

Notes:

Please check out this INCREDIBLE artwork that I commissioned from Neri Rubeedo! Of the morning after the first night 🙌 I ADORE it and its perfection. (You will need to scroll down one image to get to the trio :) )

 

Dec 22-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Trevor had held his breath when Adrian visited his studio. It was one thing to admit to being C. Leon but another to being Christopher Wise. The sculptor fully intended to tell his lovers about Christopher Wise at some point but the time wasn’t right. If he was honest, he was still a little raw from the scene over the scholarship and just wanted to make it through the weekend with the Tepes. He was nervous enough.

Belmont needn’t have worried. He didn’t have a major work remotely close to completion. The barest skeleton of Trio littered the space and everything else was at the gallery or in class for grading. The gratification had been intense when Sypha and Adrian wandered around asking a trillion questions about the equipment, his process, where he got supplies and inspiration.

When he’d made a joke that he’d already agreed to move in, they didn’t have to gush, they’d both looked genuinely confused. It’d done nothing to tame his ego.

It’d been embarrassing how excited Sypha had been to show the blonde the sketches on the wall. Then the painter admitted that he’d shown Trevor’s drapery sketch at the TA meeting last week. Apparently, everyone had been fascinated by the faces he’d teased out of the folds while still adhering to the assignment. Later, Sypha told Trevor he shouldn’t be surprised but he was.

It’d been a pity that the sculptor had class after lunch or he would have been able to add another bout of studio sex to his repertoire. He’d had to wait until they got home to properly say thank you to both of them. Trevor repressed a groan from the memory.

Watching Adrian’s face when Sypha swallowed the blonde’s cock had been memorable. He’d thought those golden eyes might actually erupt when Belmont had spread her thighs, fit himself to her and thrust in time with her dips as she plunged over Adrian’s cock. She’d moved like a dream between them, hot, slick invitation and deep throaty purrs. She really was the sexiest woman on the planet and she was all theirs.

It’d been fucking hot when the blonde had sunk his hands into her hair and met Trevor’s gaze. When he started to instruct the sculptor on how to fuck her Belmont could swear he felt his cock get harder. Sypha’s needful clench in response to Adrian’s commands had made his eyes cross.

There was a definite dominate streak in Adrian that neither Trevor or Sypha had guessed at. It was unbelievably erotic and made it all the sweeter when Tepes melted into them. When the blonde had arched and sunk onto the sculptor’s fingers later that night, his eager mouth busy on Sypha, Trevor had to actively remind himself to take things slow. It’d been a near thing with the painter wailing out his name so prettily. All in all, the evening had definitely been outstanding.

Friday came faster than Trevor would have thought possible. Between giving his notice at his apartment, finishing up the second draft for his sculpture class, meeting with Charlotte Aulin to confirm how the grading would work for the drawing class and accept the apology of the school, which was a fucking trip and a half, and moving Sypha and himself to Adrian’s, time just flew by. Not Adrian’s place, he thought, reminding himself, our place.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that the blonde meant it, it was just taking some getting used to. Trevor had been without a real home for years now and he was both scared and humiliatingly grateful for what it meant to him to have one now. The apartment was a place in the world where he belonged and was wanted. He grinned. It was very clear how much he was wanted there and it made him feel incredible.

He hadn’t intentionally avoided bringing his things over, he’d just been busy and was used to living out of his duffel. But in the midst of unpacking Sypha into the guest room, Adrian had casually asked if they shouldn’t just take some laundry baskets to Trevor’s place and load up whatever they could, seeing as they had the borrowed car and all.

When the sculptor had looked up, the painter was studiously hanging clothes in the closet and Sypha was grinning at Trevor from ear to ear. He hadn’t missed the blonde’s quick glance over to see how the sculptor was taking it when he reached for the next shirt to hang up.

With a warm tingle, the brunette remembered his surprise and then his pleasure at Adrian’s obvious hopefulness. With his heart in his throat, Trevor had said sure, why the fuck not. In less than fifteen minutes he found himself unlocking the door to his apartment.

He’d counted himself lucky that he’d already boxed up his maquettes or else he would have had to refuse. They wouldn’t be unpacked until he’d had the Wise conversation. It’d been hilarious and then painfully endearing how obviously interested Adrian had been in everything in the apartment. It had neatly bypassed his shame at the shabby interior.

It had been bizarre how much Tepes and Sypha liked the diner table he’d customized. It was coming back to the apartment and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The real moment however, had been with the sculpture in the corner, Torrent. Unable to box it, he’d just draped a sheet over it for now.

Sypha had made a beeline for it and told Adrian he had to see a finished work. The blonde’s gasp had been poignant when he saw it, and for a terrible instant, Trevor was sure that Adrian had put two and two together. After a long moment, the painter had stroked it and then the questions had started. The sculpture was an earlier piece and that seemed to have saved him from being recognized. The chatter between his lovers had been excited discussion on placement in the apartment and it’d immediately found a home in the living room. Nothing they could have done would have made him feel more loved.

Just this morning he’d come out to Sypha circling it with her mug of tea and Adrian slicing bread in the kitchen and commenting on the frustrated emotion whirling out of the center of it. It was strange and beautiful to be so seen and known by both of them. Trevor had no idea how he’d gotten so fucking lucky but he was going to keep it, no matter what.

Halfway to the sculpture studio and juggling the extra duffle of clothes that he had for the weekend, Trevor smiled. Adrian said that his parents were sending a car to pick the trio up after Sypha’s last class. The painter was supposed to meet Trevor at 2:30 pm in his studio and they would wait for her. The sculptor already had several thoughts about how they could pass the time.

His cell phone rang with a special chiming buzz that told him this was a call for Christopher. When he checked the caller ID there was a dollop of anticipation. Ainav Gallery. Why were they calling? How incredible would it be if he’d sold something else? They hadn’t discussed splitting the bills yet butCarmilla, he thought immediately and resolved to ask to speak to Hector. He hadn’t had the chance to call yet, he’d been too busy.

Trevor picked up. “Hello?”

“Christopher Wise please,” came the soft, mellow voice of Hector, the artistic director. Trevor grinned. He liked Hector. The man was delightful to work with. Thoughtful, calm, perceptive and almost uncomfortably sensitive to the temperaments of those he worked with, Hector was an artist’s dream collaborator. 

“Hector! Good to hear from you, how ya doing?” Trevor asked, ducking into one of the niches with a stone bench. He set down his loads and paced.

“Lovely, thank you.” Hector was as placid as a lake at sunset. “I am very much looking forward to your showing next Friday. I am eager for you to meet Ms. Styria and have an opportunity to meet more of the local artistic community.”

“Yeah, about that actually,” Trevor said easily. “What can you tell me about Carmilla? I’ve heard some things and they aren’t good.”

There was a poignant pause at the end of the line and then Hector delicately cleared his throat. “Exactly what have you heard?” the man asked and there was a note of disapproval there that set Trevor’s teeth on edge.

“I’ve heard she’s got an ego, is generally unpleasant and her artistic talent is somewhat questionable within the art community,” Trevor rattled it off like a grocery list and just as neutrally. He liked Hector and didn’t want to damage a valuable relationship, but he also needed to know that his first major showing wasn’t going to implode.

Hector’s laugh was a dry, tight thing. “Oh, is that all? Sounds like another artist to me. Tell me Christopher, do you always put credence into rumors? Wouldn’t you like to decide for yourself?”

Trevor couldn’t argue with that, but he trusted Adrian and Sypha. “Alright, fair enough but let me ask you this. Do you like her?”

Hector sighed. “‘Like’ is a strong word. I will say that I genuinely respect her and her work is very sought after right now. I would not have paired you two if I didn’t really feel that your artworks would show well together.”

Trevor winced. No wonder Hector had been displeased. It had been his decision to match them for the showing. “Alright Hector, if you can promise me that Styria will at least be respectful, I can live with this.”

There was a pause. “Take this as you will Christopher, but I make it a policy to never make a promise I don’t absolutely know I can keep. You are asking me to make a promise regarding the behavior of someone whom I have no hold over, no personal ties with and no real leverage. I am not comfortable making that promise.”

Damn it, Trevor thought ruefully. Hector wasn’t wrong but the sculptor didn’t like it either. “Alright, but I should warn you, I don’t deal with assholes well.”

This time Hector’s laugh had a note of pure humor in it. “Again, take it as you will, but that doesn’t surprise me in the least. All I ask is you be yourself and that you show up.”

“It’ll be cool. I will be there,” Trevor said and mentally reminded himself that he needed to find something to wear.

“Excellent, I look forward to it.” Hector cleared his throat delicately and something about it caught Trevor’s attention. He listened intently. “As you know, you sold two pieces last week, the teasers that we put out for the show.” Trevor murmured his assent.

“We are putting out the remaining three this coming week. One tomorrow, one Wednesday and one on Friday morning. I’m very happy that I finally have permission to inform you that your first two pieces were sold to none other than Alucard Tepes, the son of Vlad and Lisa Tepes. Have you heard of the Tepes family?”

Trevor had to take a minute to allow his grin to subside. He didn’t want to laugh in poor Hector’s face. Truth be told, if he hadn’t found out before, it would have been a huge shock. As it was, he couldn’t help himself. Low key smart ass was basically his trademark, really. “You don’t say. That name is familiar to me… wait, I have heard of them. They are kinda famous right?”

“You could say that,” Hector said earnestly. “Alucard is actually a rising star himself, although he works in paints.” He paused, “I can send you some articles on them, if you are curious. There was a rather gorgeous feature in Xpose last year of his oil, ‘Mort din nou.’ His work is beautiful and Alucard is quite fascinating himself, in an ice princess sort of way.”

Trevor snorted and had to fake coughing for a moment to hide it. Ice princess, holy hell, that was perfect, he thought. Ostensibly, he only melts for a select few. The sensation of Adrian’s hips bucking up against him while Trevor’s cock was buried in his mouth had the sculptor reminding himself he had a walk yet in front of him. It would be an uncomfortable one if he had to walk with his duffel hiding his erection.

“Sure,” he managed to sound somewhat normal, “email them to me, please.” He could replace the ones he’d tossed out. His grin spread. Maybe sit outside the bathroom door and wait for Adrian with them. That worked beautifully last time and wouldn’t be the first time he’d jerked off to those photos. Or the last.

Trevor heard tapping and then Hector said, “I’ve made a note to do that after we’re done here. Anyway, I am telling you about the purchase for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Alucard left a request that he be permitted first offer on your other works.”

Now Trevor did gasp. “He what?” Hector’s smile came through the phone.

“I believe you see what potential we have here,” Hector said with a touch of warmth. “To be blunt Chris, you could very well end up selling everything you’ve made on Friday night.”

Fuck that, Trevor thought with dismay, delight and disbelief. Isaac and Godbrand will be so far up my asshole—I can’t take more of his money—I would just give it to him—its just money, didn’t he say that?—he wants more of my art, oh my god, I’m gonna jump him so hard when I see him—I’m gonna lick every single inch of his body—

“However,” Hector broke his mile-a-minute thoughts, “given that you are a newer artist, it might not be smart to sell one collector all of your works.”

“Huh,” Trevor managed, working on clearing the gridlock of sexual images currently clogging his brain waves. He was just fine with giving Adrian the works until the painter begged for mercy. No, works, like art work, his brain whispered. Paging something other than your cock to participate in this conversation.

“On the other hand, someone of his status and fame is a boon to have connected to your name. You might even be able to have something of a bidding war if there is enough interest. Tepes can certainly afford it.” Trevor held back his snarl. Adrian wasn’t a cash cow to moo on command and the sculptor never wanted him to be, for him or anyone else.

“Which brings me to the last thing I was calling about,” Hector continued after Trevor didn’t respond. “It likely goes hand-in-hand with the request for first offer. Lady Tepes called and requested your contact details. She would like to commission something for Alucard’s birthday.” Hector’s smile was obvious through the phone.

Oh shit, Trevor thought, and practically dropped the cell. “Fuck me,” Trevor breathed in a wheeze.

“Yes, exactly. Played right, that commission could launch your career into the stratosphere. What would you like to do about it?” Hector asked and Trevor just shook his head.

“I don’t know,” Trevor said honestly. “Let me have the weekend to think about it?” Let me meet Lisa, let me somehow explain this mess to Adrian, let me absorb this insanity for a hot minute? Trevor thought unhappily. The fight about the scholarship was still fresh and while they hadn’t discussed it again, he felt the weight of it between them.

“Of course, I would expect you need some time. There is a lot to weigh and consider.” Hector paused again. “I would encourage you to have an answer by next Wednesday at the latest though. Given the showing and the pieces.”

“No pressure,” Trevor muttered and Hector laughed his light, dry laugh.

“This is the art world Christopher; it is nothing but pressure,” the man murmured and Trevor stuck his tongue out at the phone good-naturedly. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Trevor had to laugh. “Okay, you got me there. Listen, I have to go but thank you. I’ll talk to you Monday.” Hector said his goodbyes and Trevor hung up.

He stared at the phone until the time clued him in to the fact that he couldn’t drop his bag at the studio anymore, he had to run to class now. He took off, mind still racing.

---

“Adrian!” a light, high female voice called and he turned back, pulling his roller bag out of the way. Maria, he thought with pleasure and smiled. She waved enthusiastically, her youthful features and light blonde hair seeming to sparkle in the sunlight. The young woman was a painting prodigy and in her final semester at the college.

Maria was three years younger than him and had come to college in her teens. Adrian had been flattered and then charmed by her earnest nature and friendly overtures. The two had become friends and even painting partners for class they’d taken together over this past summer. Her portrait of him as a Renaissance prince hung in the art department. It made him laugh every time he saw it.

“Hey! Headed somewhere?” She asked him, catching up to him and smoothing down her hair as she indicated his suitcase. He failed to notice the hopeful glance she gave him or the way she angled toward his body. They continued walking down the path together.

“Yep, headed home to visit my parents this weekend. Should be fun,” he said with a little laugh, thinking of Trevor’s hopeful questions about the privacy of the pools in the mansion.

“Wow, that must be nice,” Maria sighed. “I bet not eating the cafeteria food is a real treat. Eat some caviar and think of me,” she laughed.

A tiny trickle of embarrassment ran through the blonde and he made a non-committal sound. “What does your weekend look like?” he asked her instead and she laughed again.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Painting, painting, painting! Hey, that reminds me, I wanted to say congratulations on your promotion.” She batted her lashes. “No one deserves it more.”

Adrian shook his head absently, distracted. “That’s so sweet of you but it’s just the circumstances.”

“No!” Maria said sharply and startled the painter enough that he turned to her. She flushed and said, “I mean, give yourself some credit. Everyone knows that you worked yourself to the bone for Shaft and taught that class yourself. You earned this.”

Something about the way she said it made him hear Sypha again, Half the campus…  He immediately thought, not Maria though, she’s just a kid! Brushing it off, he just nodded and breathed a sigh of relief as the sculpture building came into view.

“Where are you going anyway?” Maria asked him, slightly breathless from keeping up with his long legs. Out of consideration, he slowed for her and nodded toward the sculpture building.

“I am meeting my… friend,” he finished lamely and immediately thought, Uh oh, you need to talk about this with Trevor and Sypha. What are we? Alarm built abruptly. What are they telling people? Would they understand why I can’t?

“Oh nice! Who do you know in the sculpture department?” Maria asked, looking at his face again. If he’d turned his head a scant three inches, he would have seen desperate adoration and a seriously potent crush.

“You might have heard of him.” The painter’s smile was full of emotion and Maria’s watchful eye despaired. “He’s new this semester, but very talented, his name is—”

“Legs!” Trevor called and Adrian jerked. Belmont, you cannot call me that here! He thought wildly and whirled. Trevor was jogging down the path toward them and for a moment Adrian just blanked out, watching his muscles move under the cut off t-shirt and the shift of his thighs in his camouflage pants. I just want to bite his arms, right where that curve of muscle meets his elbow, the blonde thought, unaware of his rapt gaze.

Belmont grinned and stopped in front of them. “Hey babe,” he murmured and leaned in. Adrian jerked back with a hiss and looked away. He wasn’t fast enough to miss the confused hurt on Trevor’s face and his heart ached.

“Maria, this is my friend, Trevor Belmont,” he said stiffly and Maria looked wildly between the two men for a moment.

“Nice to meet you,” she said finally, and then took off down the path at a dead run.

“Son of a bitch,” Adrian whimpered unhappily and Trevor put his hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize she was into you, or I wouldn’t have… in front of her. Poor kid,” the sculptor clucked sympathetically. “I can understand the feeling.”

“Wait, what?” Adrian asked, head snapping up. What are you talking about, she’s not

“Maria?” Trevor said, giving him a confused look. “She’s half-in love with you. It’s totally obvious.”

“Son of a bitch,” Adrian said with great depth of feeling and covered his face. Not Maria, he thought helplessly. That was a total mess. How would he handle this? A chill crept over him. Would she tell anyone? He dropped his hand and stared at Belmont. The sculptor’s face was gentle sympathy and he reached for the painter’s hand. Adrian softly shook his head.

“We need to talk,” he said simply, “In private.” Belmont’s face became guarded and his hand fisted before he withdrew it slowly and put it in his pocket.

“Let’s go to my studio then,” Trevor said shortly and strode forward.

Minutes later, the blonde settled against the welding table and looked at his lover. He’d been hoping to go down on Trevor on this very spot today but one look at Belmont’s set jaw told him that wasn’t happening. “I’m sorry,” he started simply and Trevor nodded, shoulders falling slightly. Encouraged, Adrian continued.

“Growing up with my family, there was always someone watching. The one rule was to never give them something to see. To talk about. If you needed to explode, you do it in private. If you need to break down, you do it in private. If you need to argue, you wait until you are alone. You never air your business in public.” Trevor’s head was angled, considering. Here goes nothing, Adrian thought and wished desperately for Sypha.

“You never, ever, do something considered scandalous. You don’t get drunk, you don’t make provocative or political statements and you especially don’t… commit sexual acts in public. Anything consider—” Trevor was grinning. Why was Trevor grinning? he wondered, confused.

“I know you’ve only just begun to explore your sexuality Legs, but a kiss is hardly a blip in the sexual acts screen.” The sculptor chuckled and spread his hands. “You act like I showed up in a leather thong and tried—”

The painter shook his head slowly, face unbearably sad. Trevor’s smile slowly fell away. “No Trevor, it wasn’t the kiss. It’s the fact that we are both men.”

Belmont snarled, “Are you fucking kidding me, Adrian?!” This is bad, the painter thought and tried to explain. Unconsciously, he crossed his arms defensively.

“It’s not my parents, they could care less. As long as I am happy, they are. It’s the public backlash. My father—”

“Your father is alright with you living in a prison where you cannot be who you truly are? Who gives a fuck what the public thinks! This is your life and I’ll be damned if—”

“Trevor, look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never given a damn what people have said about you. To your face and behind your back. About your family. Your parents.” He knew it was harsh but he didn’t know how else to cut through the anger.

The sculptor inhaled sharply. “That’s different,” he whispered after a moment and Adrian heard the shift in his voice. Relief flooded him, even as his heart hurt for dredging up pain for Belmont. It would be alright if they could just communicate.

“Is it?” the painter asked quietly, straightening from the table. “You know how hideous it can be. I couldn’t do that to my parents and I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Belmont said, watching the painter step towards the brunette. “You’re mine and I want the world to know it.” Adrian’s smile was sweetly slow.

“I know it. You know it,” he stepped closer and Trevor closed the gap. “Can that be enough?”

“Adrian,” Trevor rasped, low and urgent. “It’s not fair.” He cupped the blonde’s face, blue eyes molten desire and possession. “You’re mine.”

“I know, lover, I know.” Adrian ran a finger over the scar over the brunette’s eye and Trevor sighed. “When Sypha gets here we’ll make a plan. I meant to say something sooner, I didn’t even think about it and I am sorry. Truly.”

“How sorry?” Trevor asked, the corner of his mouth quirking.

Adrian’s grin was sensual welcome. His hope for blowing Trevor cannon-balled back into the present. “Sooooo sorry,” he said and licked over Trevor’s lips. With a groan, Belmont fisted his hands in his hair and dived in. When Adrian’s head was forced back and he felt Trevor’s teeth on his throat, Tepes cried out his name, low and beseeching.

“When you say my name like that,” Belmont nipped and the painter gasped. “And make those sounds I just,” he worked Adrian’s shirt open with quick hands. “Want to fuck you until you can’t breathe but to exhale my name.” His fingernails danced over Adrian’s scar and the blonde arched into him in a hard quake.

“I want that,” the painter sobbed out as Trevor’s mouth chased his hands down the puckered line. “I want you, so very much. Please, I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“You are so,” Trevor nibbled his ribs, “fucking,” his collarbone, “pretty,” back to his mouth. When Belmont plunged his tongue into Adrian’s mouth, Tepes found the worn leather belt and tugged. I want you inside me, he thought and gave a particularly sharp jerk to work the tip of the belt out of the loop. It just snapped in half. Horrified, Adrian broke the kiss and looked down.

“Tearing my clothes off? That’s hot,” Trevor said, voice thick and the painter looked up to a cheerful smirk.

“I’m so sorry,” he started and Trevor laughed. “I got it at the Salvation Army and I can get another one, it’s fine.” He paused, “Actually though, let me just get my chains off, I don’t want to lose my crosses.”

Infinite grace, Adrian sunk to his knees. “Please; allow me,” he said, eyes on Trevor.

“Well fuck,” Trevor said, lips parted, tongue darting out to the corner.

“That is my hope, yes,” Tepes murmured as he carefully worked the broken belt off and gently placed the chains and their crosses onto the welding table. “Sometime I want to know about those,” he said and went to work on Trevor’s zipper.

“Nothing much to tell,” Trevor said, “I like my chains, had them since—oh wow.” Adrian had slipped his hand inside the opened zipper and stroked Trevor through his briefs.

“Since when?” Adrian asked coyly, curling his fingers under the sculptor’s balls.

Belmont continued, a little less steady, “Since I was thirteen and I—” His hips thrust forward as Tepes pressed his lips to the tip of Trevor’s cock, nipping gently through the cotton.

“What about the crosses?” the painter asked huskily, pushing Trevor’s pants further down his hips. He groaned when he felt Trevor’s large, calloused hands brush over his forehead and weave themselves into his hair. The way the sculptor held him was such a complex mix of control and tenderness and he could never get enough.

“I made the three wooden ones with my Father when I was little.” There was a yearning in his voice that made the blonde pause. “The rest I collected, well except the hammered metal one, I made that, uh, two years ago? Anyway, I like ‘em. They are small sculptures, intricate, beautiful—” Adrian eased down the waistband of his briefs and licked over the blunt, broad tip that peeked out at him. “Beautiful,” the sculptor repeated, looking down at him.

“You make me feel beautiful,” Adrian said and finished stripping his underwear off. Belmont’s eyes darkened and he reached out.

“Legs, let me—” Trevor started and the painter shook his head.

“Not this time, gorgeous,” Tepes said, “I want to show you how terribly sorry I am.” He grasped Trevor’s cock and licked all the way up the underside of his shaft. “So, so sorry,” he whispered and sunk down on that magnificent length. Belmont’s hands tightened sharply in his hair and Adrian’s cock ached. I love this, he thought.

Curl your tongue, drop your chin, he reminded himself and eased his lover’s cock deeper into his mouth. He’d been taking notes and when the sculptor shuddered, he knew it’d been time well spent. The painter carefully suctioned out his cheeks and loosened his shoulders.

“Holy fuck, Adrian,” the brunette whimpered and the blonde groaned deep in his throat, splaying his hands over warm, taut thighs. Trevor thrust, and instead of trying to match it, the painter just relaxed into it. Belmont sunk all the way inside and hissed in pleasured surprise. “Mother of—” He thrust again and the sensation of fullness was heaven.

The painter cupped his balls and squeezed gently. “God bless Google,” Trevor said reverently and Adrian snorted. Well, he’s not wrong, the blonde thought blissfully and danced his fingers back, pressing experimentally. Belmont gasped suddenly and Tepes walked his fingertips firmly over the spot again. Found you, he thought.

“I’m sending a thank you card to Steve Jobs,” his lover managed, voice uneven.

Sure now, the painter traced spirals over the spot and the sculptor’s breath grew ragged. “Maybe a fruit basket.” His thrusts sped up and Tepes rocked instinctively, finding only air to press up against. Suddenly, Trevor’s leg was there between his thighs, a divinely hard force against his insistent cock. The painter whimpered and Belmont stroked his cheek while he fucked his mouth.

Adrian’s eyes flew up to Belmont’s and intense need poured out over him. “You know I like it when you ride me,” the brunette ground out. “You’ve been so good to me, so perfect. Now be good to you; show me you can be.” The painter simply liquefied. He loved when Trevor talked to him like this; it made everything turn to honey and gold sunlight in his body.

There was a sound of a key turning in the door and Tepes froze. Trevor grinned and looked down. “It’s Sypha, she has a key,” he whispered, “let’s give her a show.” The vision the blonde had in the drawing studio weeks ago slammed back into him. Sypha telling him how to move, what to do. His skin heated and he moved his hips against the sculptor’s calf. His rigid cock pressed up against his lover. “Hell yes, Adrian,” Belmont hissed, “just like that, let me feel how fucking hard you are.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tepes saw Sypha slowly open the door and peek in. “Awfully quiet in—” she started to say. Her eyes latched onto them and her knowing smile became an ‘o’ of surprise. The painter ground against Trevor’s thigh and batted his lashes. Like what you see? he thought mischievously. Trevor waved nonchalantly. The redhead swallowed hard, quickly wedged herself in the room and locked the door behind her.

“Hello Ms. Belnades. Fancy meeting you here,” Trevor said, trying for a casual tone that was ruined by the note of tension in it. He quaked against the blonde as Adrian swallowed against the length that steadily increased its surging speed.

Sypha unceremoniously dumped her bag, portfolio and suitcase and jerked her shirt over her head. “Hello Mr. Belmont,” she looked down and her lips parted. “Mr. Tepes, sweet God you look gorgeous. Now,” her lips curved as she unhooked her bra, “don’t worry about answering, you’ve got a dick stuck in your throat.”

Trevor’s laugh was a short bark that ended on a moan. She untied her wrap skirt and Trevor palmed her breast, thumbing over a nipple that was already hard. Adrian reached up and cupped her, slipping his pinky under the edge of her underwear and over the slick parting of her lips. Holy, she’s already wet, the blonde thought as his cock twitched.

“Fuck!” Sypha moaned and shuddered into their hands.

“We are giving it our best shot,” Trevor said as he bent to suckle her nipple. Adrian slipped another finger under the fabric to stroke her. He wanted to be inside her while Trevor was inside him. He shivered. The idea of pleasuring both of them at once was a keen blade of need and the painter wanted it more than anything.

“Yeah, I can see—oh, yes,” she whimpered and thrust into the blonde’s hand. “I am a little jealous though—faster please, Adrian,” and he happily obliged. “I need to catch up.”

“I’m rather close here darling,” Trevor gritted out and the painter hummed happily. “Fuck, um, quite close now.”

Give it to me, Adrian thought, need curling in the pit of his belly, I want to taste you come and know it was because of me. He slipped a finger inside Sypha and she gasped.

“I guess I’ll just have to occupy myself with Adrian’s dick then, until your face is available?” Sypha said breathlessly.

Wait, what? Tepes thought abruptly, thumb and finger still busy in her slick folds.

“That sounds perfect lover,” the sculptor groaned as he pressed a hand against her throat. Sypha purred and leaned into his palm. Adrian whimpered when he felt her clench and he writhed against Belmont’s leg.

Trevor isn’t the only one close, he thought and gave her another finger. The redhead gasped and rocked against him.

“I fucking love this,” Trevor growled, one hand on Sypha’s throat and the other in Adrian’s hair. “This is paradise right here. I could do this forever—” Adrian bobbed his head gently and Belmont’s breath whooshed out, “buuuut I’m gonna come.” Sypha took Trevor's mouth in an urgent kiss and sunk her hand into the painter’s hair, her fingernails scraping over his scalp.

Adrian murmured mmm-hmmm in his throat and Trevor jerked into him, shuddering heat and incredible strength. The painter eased back slightly, wanting to capture the sculptor’s flavor on his tongue as he felt the wet, full gush of Trevor’s come splash down his throat. “Holy Adrian,” Belmont muttered and Sypha laughed.

“Pretty sure that’s not in the ten commandments,” she commented and squeaked when Adrian kneaded her pulsing bud between his knuckles. “It should be though. Holy Adrian, indeed.”

Trevor staggered a little bit and Adrian cupped his ass to hold him close, sucking the last of his release off of him. “Would you look at him?” he asked Sypha, “just gorgeous.” She murmured agreement and together they stroked over Adrian’s hair gently. “You’re so perfect,” Trevor said and with a sigh, Tepes let Belmont’s cock slip from his mouth.

“I love the way you taste,” the painter said, unaware of the adoration in his eyes and how Trevor’s heart squeezed painfully in response. “And” he looked at Sypha, “I love the way you taste.” He shifted back on his heels and turned to her, cupping her ass and urging her forward.

“Oh! Wait, I was going to—” she started and he pulled her underwear to the side and parted her with his fingers. “Well, someone’s in a good—Adrian!” she shrieked softly as he slicked his tongue up between her lips.

“Man knows what he wants,” Trevor observed cheerfully. “Fortunately, so do I,” he said as he got on his knees.

----

I ain't got a fever, I got a permanent disease
It'll take more than a doctor to prescribe a remedy
I got lots of money, but it isn't what I need
Gonna take more than a shot to get this poison out of me
And I got all the symptoms, count 'em one, two, three
First you need (That's what you get for falling in love)
Then you bleed (You get a little and it's never enough)
And then you're on your knees
(That's what you get for falling in love)
Now this boy's addicted 'cause your kiss is the drug

-"Bad Medicine," Bon Jovi

Notes:

Happy Holidays and Merry Orgasms to all! If you've been wondering where I've been, I took the plunge into the sub Trevor/ dom Alucard hole (pun most certainly intended) in “the Sub Agenda.” You might enjoy the segue way.

The holidays have me running so it might be another longer stretch before I have something for you but I promise, I have copious notes and threesomes yet to upload.
---
Adrian: Emil Andersson, Trevor: Dylan Rieder, Sypha: Daria Milky. Digital background: Anni Roenkae, blue/teal painting: Steve Johnson

Chapter 26: Color me your color, darling

Summary:

“How quickly do you think we could get Sypha to come?” Trevor asked Adrian, mouth on hers. She moaned against the demanding, firm grip that held her throat with love and the questing, sensitive fingers that traced over her.

“Quiet now my love. I bet you can be silent for us?” the blonde crooned at her and she felt Trevor’s hand tighten slightly. I agree, she thought, it’s so hot when Adrian talks like this.

“Let’s find out,” she said. Adrian brought his hand up and covered her mouth. She noticed he was careful to leave her nose free for breathing.

“Let’s make sure,” the painter whispered, voice low and hungry.

Notes:

Dec 31 - It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was maddening. Trevor wasn’t answering his calls and Godbrand refused to consider seeing the man again. If Isaac wasn’t so frustrated, he could laugh over how the whole thing had gone down with Soma Cruz but right now, he simply couldn’t. The federal agent knew that the answer was staring him in the face but he lacked the context to make it all fit together.

Every time he tried a different approach; tried to ease around the Tepes name, he was stonewalled. Isaac had quietly put feelers out to some friends in other departments and had been told, not unkindly, that he was royally screwed. In a country where no one was supposed to be above the law, this was just one more time he had seen that the law was different if you had money, power and the right phone numbers. It had always disturbed him and this was just the final straw.

Isaac was not a foolish man and he was patient. He didn’t want to lose his job but he also had a specific set of reasons for his occupation. If those reasons no longer held true than he needed to reconsider his vocation. Everyone knew that corruption existed, but he had entered this field with the understanding that when it occurred, it would be rooted out and exterminated. He truly believed that the overall goal was to uncover the facts, commit to the ideals of justice and combat the depravity. The FBI were agents of truth in a world of lies. They cut the dead flesh from the body to save what they could and ultimately, they would prevail.

Now, he wasn’t so sure. Vlad Tepes, intentionally or not, had shown him that the depravity of humankind could corrode the highest offices of the land and he was powerless to even complain. There had to be a way to get the information he needed, find a crack inside the Tepes world and rectify this festering wrong.

The crack is Trevor Belmont, he thought, looking at the sculptor, laughing in the sun and moving toward the huge black machine purring at the curb.

It was clear that somehow Vlad had bought Trevor, although once again, Isaac felt that wasn’t quite right. Belmont’s shock in the interview room had been genuine as was his obvious hunger to finally know what happened to his family. But there was something there with Alucard and the connection was too coincidental. Just that morning he’d received word from Trevor’s landlord that Belmont had given notice and what do you know? His forwarding address was an apartment in Alucard’s name.

Isaac eyed the petite redhead between the two men and wondered. He’d looked into Sypha Belnades and it was completely unclear where she fit. Granted, her past was interesting as well, although more because she seemed to have completely thrown her upbringing out the window and her family had absolutely no idea. That in itself suggested a certain deceptive ability that made her involvement with the Tepes family all the more suspect.

She too had moved into the apartment. Was she a lure for Belmont? A side piece? A con artist? Through the mirrored glasses, Isaac watched Alucard say something to Trevor with an expression that could only be termed suggestive. I had not considered that, Isaac thought, somewhat surprised at himself. For whatever reason, he had a hard time imagining the rough-mannered, proud, scarred Trevor Belmont with the polished, graceful, elegant Alucard Tepes.

When he saw Sypha pat Alucard’s ass through the open limo door as Trevor handed off his suitcase to the driver, Isaac stopped trying to analyze the dynamic. Clearly he didn’t understand it and at this point he wasn’t going to be able to pinpoint it by guessing alone. Why are you even here, he asked himself again and knew that the answer wasn’t a good one. He’d intended to try to speak to Trevor but when he had seen the trio coming out of the sculpture building together, he'd instinctively followed them.

This is your day off, he told himself, and this is pointless. But there was a bitterness in Isaac’s mouth and he was tired of the greying edges of right and wrong. Justice was either blind or it wasn’t, and unlike his colleagues, he had not forgotten that. I just want to see where they are going. If there is an opportunity to possibly speak to Trevor, I can try. Or perhaps… his eyes drifted to the license plate: VDT 13.

Perhaps it was time to strike a little closer to home.

---

Sypha watched Trevor’s face when he saw the stretch limo and tried to hide her grin. I know, right? she thought and turned her back to Adrian so she could give Trevor a wiggle of her eyebrows. He gave her a WTF look but his spine straightened slightly. Attaboy, she thought.

“When you said your parents were sending a car, I was expecting, I don’t know, a church van or some shit. I forgot who you are, haha.” Trevor said with only a tiny thread of uncertainty in his voice. "That is a sweet ride and I kinda want to just pop the hood and poke around."

Adrian’s grin was polished silver in the sunlight. “That’s the nicest thing you could have said to me,” his smile dropped into a welcoming curve and he pitched his voice low, “and you've already ‘popped the hood’ in the nicest way possible.” His golden eyes flew to Sypha and she bit her lip, still tasting a trace of Adrian’s spend there. It’d been cock worship in its purest form when she and Trevor knelt before him and competed to see who really was better at head. Tepes swore he couldn’t choose.

She stuck her tongue out at Trevor as she handed her bag to the driver. Belmont had cheated as far as she was concerned. He’d walked his fingers back into the valley of Adrian’s ass to stroke over that sensitive ring of muscle. She’d caught his triumphant smirk when the painter had gasped his name. I one-upped him though, she thought with satisfaction. She’d slapped the blonde’s ass hard and he’d come almost instantly. As far as she was concerned, the competition is still ongoing for best head.

“Julius, how nice to see you again,” Adrian said politely and chatted briefly as he passed his suitcase over to the driver. When he ducked into the cool interior, she followed close behind, smacking his butt lightly when the driver turned. The limo smelled faintly of leather and cigars and then she smelled the roses. Adrian was laughing as he turned to her and offered her one long-stemmed white rose from a bouquet that spilled over the seat opposite him.

“My father sends his regards,” he murmured. “Apparently, he intends to ensure your Belmont boyfriend measures up.”

He passed over a small creamy card with a bold flourish of writing. Dear Ferbili Champion, no one could deserve you but I am willing to give him a chance. For you. Regards, your humble admirer, she read and grinned.

“I adore him so much,” she said, and tucked the card in her pocket. “I don’t really see Vlad as humble though.” The painter nodded with a sardonic expression.

“I have no doubt that Father thinks he is, with no question that that is not in fact, the case,” Tepes agreed.

Trevor was climbing in behind her and she heard his small exhalation. “This is better than a church van,” he said and Sypha laughed.

“Brilliant deduction there, Belmont,” she said and Julius shut the door behind Trevor.

“Can he hear us?” Trevor asked in a low voice, pointing to the privacy glass and Adrian shook his head.

“You would have to yell or open the sunroof,” the blonde said. “My father values his privacy.”

“There’s a sunroof?” Trevor said with barely contained anticipation and jerked his head up. Sypha grinned. Five bucks says he opens it… and sure enough he already was kneeling under it, pushing the little button to retract the leather cover. Sunlight poured in over him, haloing him in a little spotlight. For a moment, Sypha could see how achingly young he was; dazzled, unguarded and genuinely captivated.

You deserve everything we can give you, she thought. She laughed with glee when he opened the roof and launched himself up to yell at the world, “I'm Trevor fucking Belmont! And Godbrand can. Lick! My! Sack!”

Adrian rolled his eyes and looked at her. “You were less profane your first time,” he said and Sypha arched a brow.

“Actually, I am pretty sure I called on God multiple times… My latest prayers were a direct result of your attention.” It was pure joy to watch Adrian catch the insinuation. His smugness merged into a keenly embarrassed awareness that bloomed in a blush across his cheeks. She knew progress was being made when he licked his lips and actually engaged with the sexual innuendo.

“I believe we were both worshipping our respective deities,” he murmured, locking golden desire onto her and Sypha leaned forward.

“Ever had sex in this limo, Adrian?” she purred and his eyes went wide. Maybe not as much progress as I thought, she mused as his throat worked.

“Hey what? Who’s having limo sex? Us? Because I am inviting myself to this party,” Trevor said as he collapsed back against the seat. "I'll even smoke a cigar after." He nodded to the inlaid box on the console.

“I—uh, we—,” Adrian began and Sypha laughed good-naturedly. It was his parent’s car and there was a driver. Both wouldn’t stop her, but she knew it would give him pause.

“Maybe on the way home; but I could use a drink to rehydrate right now,” she said smoothly and leaned across to the built-in bar.

“I’m sorry, what?!” Trevor yelped and manhandled her to the side, opened the fridge and whispered a prayer.

“Belmont! If you push me any—" she started to say, even as she grinned. Adrian burst out laughing.

“I am going to love showing you all the ridiculous things about being a Tepes,” the painter said happily and Sypha felt her heart leap. This was one of a handful of times that she’d ever heard her best friend talk about his social status as a good thing. Bless you Trevor, she thought and felt the knitting of the trio tighten just that little bit.

Trevor turned from the bar with a slow smile. “I could give two shits about you being a Tepes, but I have to say I have loved all the things you’ve shown me so far, Legs. Every inch in fact.”

The blonde matched his smile with a huge grin, “Well I keep trying to show you what I feel like from the inside but you just—”

“Motherfucker, Adrian, limo sex is gunna happen if you keep tempting me with your sweet ass,” Trevor groaned and tackled the blonde back into the seat, straddling him and cupping his face. “I want to, so badly and you know that! The one time in my life I am trying to be considerate and—”

“No,” Adrian said quietly, deadly serious. “Don’t say that, you are incredibly considerate. You’ve done nothing but care about my feelings and Sypha’s since we’ve first met.”

“Aww, Legs, you don’t—” Trevor started to say with teasing affection and Sypha spoke up.

“Agreed on all fronts, Adrian. Our Belmont certainly likes to think he’s a hard ass, doesn’t he?” She snuggled in beside them and tangled a hand in Adrian’s hair, another down the back of Trevor’s pants. Warm, fuzzy and lush, his ass curved into her fingertips. “But he’s one of those little Peep chicks at heart.”

Adrian snickered but his unusual eyes, caramel in the shadow of the limo, stayed serious. “Absolutely.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped with mock indignation. “Dude, I am not a Peeps chick! That’s so harsh! I did bare knuckle fighting and whooped some ass, I will have you know! I at least have the dignity of a Rice Krispie Tr—wait, what color of Peeps?”

“Why should that even--?” Adrian asked with a snort and Sypha chortled. Classic, she thought.

“As a painter, you should understand the nuances of the color palette choice here. I mean really Tepes. The dulcet tones of the green Peep would reflect my inner dignity, the deep calm of the blue Peep my utter—”

“As opposed to your non-existent external dignity. You're pink,” Sypha said drily. “You are definitely a pink Peeps. Pink for all that asshole you constantly like to flash around.”

The sculptor’s mouth opened to deliver something blistering; she could see it in his expression and gave him a saucy leer, but the painter held up a hand.

“Wait, are you serious?” Adrian interjected, “There’s pink Peeps?!”

They both turned to him. “Wait, you’ve never seen a pink Peep?” Sypha asked him incredulously.

The blonde looked defensive. “I thought you were joking! I’ve only ever seen the yellow! How many colors are there?”

Trevor started to laugh, “This is fucking gold right here, I can’t believe you’ve ridden in a limo but don’t know—”

The painter huffed and jerked his chin up. “I hardly think my lack of cheap Easter candy education is a reflection of—”

“Hot damn, I fucking love when you talk to me like that. It’s so sexy. Like a duchess talking to her servant who’s displeased her,” Trevor wiggled his ass against Adrian who blinked and stared at Trevor like he’d just revealed he was a Muppet by birth.

“Excuse me?” the painter asked, even as he arched into the movement, black silk shirt riding up.

His pale skin was already heating up. Sypha smacked Trevor’s ass and both men whimpered. Gets you every time, she reflected.

“You’d be a purple Peep,” Trevor quipped, “Royalty even when ridiculous.”

Holy shit, yep, Sypha thought and grinned, nuzzling into the soft waves of Adrian’s hair.

“You called me a duchess, Belmont,” Tepes said with accusation, even as his hands slid to the sculptor’s waistband.

Limo sex is on, the digital artist thought happily and dipped her fingertips into the top of the cleft of Trevor’s ass. He wiggled happily, urging her fingers deeper.

“Such a pretty mouth, so aloof and snooty when it wants to be,” Trevor murmured as he leaned in and Sypha licked Adrian's ear.

The blonde jumped with a yelp, “Ow! That hurt!” He pushed the sculptor back and put a hand over his thigh. When his fingers came away, there was blood.

“Adrian!” Sypha exclaimed with concern and clapped her hand over the wound.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, fuck, it’s my knife, here let me—” Trevor gingerly reached into his pocket and winced. “Yeah, it’s caught on some loose string, hang on.” He turned the pocket inside out and a small blade that folded in on itself was ensnared in a tangle of string from the seam of the pocket. The tangle had teased the end out.

“What the—?” Sypha asked, staring at it. Why do you carry a knife like that? It was clearly handmade, compact for hiding and, as he opened it, she could see that it was purely defensive, the loop in the thing made to hide in the palm of your hand. With the knowledge of all women of a certain age, she suddenly knew exactly what it was for. “Trevor, oh no—”

Her eyes flew to his and he swallowed. Lord God, why would you allow that to happen to him, she thought as her fears were confirmed, has he not suffered enough?  “It’s not a big deal.” Trevor said and Adrian murmured unhappily. “I made it… a while back. Now I just, I have it. It comes in handy.” He tried for levity, “Unless it’s stabbing my boyfriend, then it’s really not.”

“Trevor, come here,” Sypha said and held out her hand.

“Please,” he said with a warning edge buried in his voice, “I don’t want to make this a thing.”

“I just want to hold you,” Sypha said, “We don’t have to talk.” There was a painful need in his eyes and she knew he wanted to but he was afraid of what might happen. What he might say. Despite all the questions she had, she knew that Trevor had to chose the time and place for that discussion. If he ever would.

Adrian stirred beside her and removed her hand from his thigh before using it to urge her up. He followed behind and together they surrounded Trevor. When they closed around him, he quaked against their frames and his breath hitched. Slowly they sunk back against the floor, propped up against the seat and Sypha slung her legs across both of them. I would protect both of you from everything that has happened, she thought, I would give anything to take back all the damage, all the hurt, all the misery. If I ever find out who hurt you, my love, I will--

“I was enrolled in self-defense classes when I was twelve,” Adrian said quietly. “My mother didn’t say anything at the time but two years ago she mentioned that an associate of my father’s had made a suggestive comment about me a week before. Given that they couldn’t always be with me, and we were surrounded by staff and strangers constantly, it suddenly seemed absurd to her that they’d never considered the possibility of—anything.”

Twelve, Sypha thought and shuddered. She'd seen photos of him in the mansion at that age. He was beautiful of course, but achingly innocent. The idea that anyone could think--

“Aikido and maybe judo, right?” Trevor mumbled, voice subdued and sad. Sypha stroked his hair and down his spine. It’s okay, I promise, she thought.

“And jiu-jitsu,” Adrian laughed softly. “Scoped me out when we fought, hey?”

A bit of life returned to the sculptor’s voice and his chuckle was brief but genuine, “That wasn’t a fight. I was too busy checking out your ass to fight properly.”

“Oh whatever, you’re just mad I ended up on top!” Adrian scoffed, a little bit of that tone that Trevor termed, ‘duchess’ creeping in. That brought a purr of approval from the sculptor and Sypha relaxed fractionally. The worst of it was over now.

“Oh hell no, I looooved it. You can be on top whenever you want, Legs,” Trevor crooned and the blonde blushed. It’d been on the table since the beginning but thus far Adrian hadn’t taken him up on it. Sypha suspected that he was waiting for Trevor to top first before crossing that bridge. Truthfully, she wondered if he ever would. The way he surrendered to both of them was gloriously submissive.

“There is that really great pool table in your wing, next to the library,” Sypha said nonchalantly and Adrian laughed, perfect teeth glinting against pale lips.

“Oh right, like Trevor would just climb up on…” he trailed off as Belmont nodded enthusiastically, shaggy hair falling into his eyes.

“I certainly imagined you fucking me into it,” Sypha said with no small amount of wistfulness. Just lifting my skirt and

“A twofer!” Trevor agreed with pleasure, “Just two asses in the air!”

“Or one ass on the table and one in the air? Do you think you could multi-task while he fucked you?” Sypha asked casually as she gave him a final squeeze and drew back for a bottle of water.

“For a taste of you? You bet I could,” Trevor said and nodded when she indicated the bottle. She tossed one to him and he cracked it. The painter was just looking back and forth between them, a completely torn expression on his face, elegant eyebrows knit.

“I thought I had a rich fantasy life,” he finally managed when Trevor took a swig of his water and then offered to him. The painter took it and a healthy swallow. “I am beginning to realize I had no idea the possibilities.”

“I told you,” Sypha grinned and stretched out on the seat, kicking her sandals off, “we are better together.”

“Better orgasms, better food, better art—” Trevor ticked off and Sypha had to chime in.

“Better art, hey? So I am not the only one?” she reached for her bag. “You two feature in my midterm work in a pretty big way.” She booted up her computer and tried to keep a straight face. She hadn’t meant to show them yet, but it seemed like a good time. Something to ease the tension. She’d been working on it on the side, just as a personal project, but had come to really love it.

“I confess that you two might also be in mine,” Adrian said in a small rush. “I hope that is alright. It’s just what I saw between you two, the first time I saw you together.”

“That sketch that you’ve been drooling over from my apartment? Up on the wall in the apartment studio now? It’s called ‘Trio,’” the sculptor murmured.

“Oh, that sounds just lovely, guys,” she said, the tiniest smile on her lips as she turned the computer screen towards them. “Mine is called, ‘Let’s Fuck,’ and I have to say, I feel like the name suits.” Adrian’s eyes practically popped out of his head and Trevor’s smile was wickedly pleased. Just about what I thought might happen, she thought.

What had started as a fantasy sketch based on the painter’s dream had become a practice in light and tone renders. She was quite proud of it. Adrian was splayed out over a tangle of sheets, golden tresses dripping over the side of the bed, wrists bound and tied to a bedpost. His arch was wanton abandon and he seemed to be straining against his bonds. Trevor was staring down at him, wearing a pair of black boots and looking like a conquering barbarian. His expression was caught between a smirk and a groan; one big hand stroking the blonde’s cheek while Adrian worked his mouth around Trevor’s cock. She rode the painter behind Trevor, hands splayed across the sculptor’s chest from behind, cheek captured in Belmont’s other palm and eyes on Adrian. 

“I feel like I caught Trevor’s expression fairly accurate to life, wouldn’t you say Adrian?” Sypha’s tone was innocent sweetness. “It’s totally the look he gets when his cock is in your throat, isn’t it?”

“I look like a warlock or a conquering king or something,” Trevor said, leaning in to study it. “You are fucking talented Sypha, holy shit. I vote we blow this up for the bedroom. Might not be able to use Staples like I normally do though.”

“You—” It came out as a gasped squeak and the painter cleared his throat. “You are not showing this in class, right?!”

Sypha did not miss the flash of pain on Trevor’s face. She had always known that they’d never be able to be open about the trio. Adrian was simply too famous. That had suited her just fine, for a half a dozen reasons. It was, however, a serious miscalculation on her part in regards to Trevor’s pride. It would be important to him to stake his claim and have a family to point to. The moment Adrian had mentioned it in the studio, she’d seen it all over Trevor’s face. We’ve handled his pride poorly a couple of times recently, she thought, and rushed to soothe.

“No, I never intended that, I was just joking about this being an assignment. Can you imagine? I think Professor Cho would have a panic attack.” She paused, “Or ask for a copy. Hard to say with her to be honest. Either way, this is for us. I am not sharing your gorgeousness.” Sypha smiled, “It started as a joke but I very much love it now.”

“It’s scorching hot,” Trevor agreed and laughed. “I’m not sure why you put me in the boots though, that’s all Adrian.”

Sypha arched a brow, passing the laptop to Adrian, whose fading blush came back full force. He didn’t look away though, she noted. “Because you look amazing in them?” the painter said quietly, studying the image now, tracing their forms with one long finger.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Sypha said happily. “I would love to see you in them.” She met his eyes, “Spank you in them.”

Belmont’s grin was sultry and seductive. “Well shit, if you both wanted to see me in them, why didn’t you just say so? Adrian, pass yours over, let’s do this!”

The blonde looked down at his feet and then at Belmont’s. “I don’t mean to be an ass, but not a chance in hell. You’ll stretch them and they are Versace. You wear what? A size twelve?”

“Um, good eye,” the sculptor said with surprise, “Are you that discerning with all my measurements?”

The painter coughed and murmured, “I have a good eye for anatomy.” He cleared his throat as they both snickered. “My point is that my feet are smaller. If you wanted to shop fo—wait a minute!! Where are we?!” He pressed a button on the console and Julius’s voice answered politely. A quick conversation seemed to only add to Adrian’s excitement and he told the driver to take the exit off of Highway Five and head downtown to “Lindenfeld’s.” It took Sypha only a moment and then she clapped her hands.

“Lindenfeld’s!! Yes! This is going to be amazing!” She launched herself over to Adrian and kissed him enthusiastically, her teeth clinking against his as she laughed.

“Most definitely,” the painter murmured against her lips and sunk in. Oh, she had a moment to think before her mind plunged inside his mouth. His tongue was clever, adoring and tinged with veneration as it danced across hers. She felt his hand against her bare arm as he carefully traced up to her throat and cupped her cheek. Sypha settled against his lap and dipped her hands into his shirt.

“I am not complaining,” Trevor drawled from above them as he cupped her breasts from behind. Hello, Sypha thought happily as his skilled fingertips caressed her. “But anyone want to tell me what Lindenfeld’s is?”

Adrian broke the kiss to grin up at Belmont, “It’s your new boots, my sweet.” He gasped as Trevor pressed his palm into his throat and finished, “About 15-20 minutes away?” Sypha tilted her head back for a kiss. Trevor obliged her and brought his other hand up to her neck. Ah, yes, please, she thought. When he squeezed gently, she felt her pleasure spike.

“How quickly do you think we could get Sypha to come?” Trevor asked Adrian, mouth on hers. Like this? Pretty damn quick, she thought. Adrian slipped his hand between her thighs and stroked. She looked down to watch and the demanding, firm grip that held her throat with love refused to yield. She moaned appreciatively for it, and for the questing, sensitive fingers that traced over her lips with inviting entreaty.

“Quiet now my love. I bet you can be silent for us?” the blonde crooned at her and she felt Trevor’s hand tighten slightly. I agree, she thought, it’s so hot when Adrian talks like this.

“Let’s find out,” she said. Adrian brought his hand up and covered her mouth. She noticed he was careful to leave her nose free for breathing but his grip was firm.

“Let’s make sure,” the painter whispered, voice low and hungry. The digital artist gasped and rocked against his hands. This was a different kind of restraint but desire burned strong now. She could feel Adrian’s arousal against her thigh and the sculptor's against her shoulders as he stroked her nipple. The blonde's hand sped up as Trevor leaned over to kiss him.

---

In the end it was good he’d kept his hand over Sypha’s mouth because she’d climaxed with a distinctively feminine keen. Adrian resisted a contented sigh. It was amazing to him how instinctively they all managed to fit together. He’d been worried about how that would work, but it never seemed to be an issue.

Sypha had simply turned around, mounted him and opened her mouth for Trevor. The brunette had bent over both of them, harsh breath and rippling muscle. When the sculptor had stroked his thumb over Adrian’s lips, tucked one blunt edge inside his mouth and told them both that they were so damned pretty when they fucked, Tepes had been lost. He always came quickly when Sypha was on top anyway; something about the control and the way she moved.

It was incredibly erotic to watch Sypha slide off of him and mount Trevor, Adrian’s spend spilling onto her thigh. Trevor had a habit of using his mouth or fingers to taste their combined flavor as though he was taking communion and today was no exception. Somehow it was simultaneously romantic and blisteringly sensual. He had licked his fingers before raking his nails down her back. 

They were rougher with each other than they were with him and while it wasn’t his thing, he loved to watch them. They didn’t really give up control to each other so much as hold the reins together. Sypha would bite, Trevor would slap. Sypha would challenge, Trevor would tease. Trevor would demand, Sypha would claim. In the end, they raced with each other to fulfillment and refused to allow the other to be left behind. That included him, he’d found, much to his continued joy. It was always something, whether it was Trevor’s warm washcloth routine for all of them, Sypha’s urging of water for everyone or an extended hand from one or both.

In this moment, when Sypha collapsed with a whimper on Trevor, Belmont looked over and him and growled, “Hold her while I finish, I want to touch my lovers when I come.”

“Fuck that is hot,” Sypha murmured and Adrian had to agree, even as he moved to the seat beside them and took her back against his chest. Trevor adjusted to thrust deep inside of her. “Oh. My,” the digital artist gasped and bit her knuckle. Her lashes fluttered and one long leg extended into the air, toes curling on the sunroof cover.

She pressed against Tepes and whined deep in her throat. The painter was hypnotized by the movements of their hips, the obscenely slick sounds they made together, the glistening wetness between them. He hadn’t realized he’d reached out until Belmont rasped, “Yes. Touch us. You’re here inside her with me and I want to come with your hands on me.”

Adrian’s eyes snapped up. Trevor was a vision of fracturing control; glistening muscles, sweat caught at his brow, lips parted and the edge of his teeth peeking. His eyes were the endless blue of a burning desert sky and the words that had teetered on the blonde's tongue for days now, came knocking on the doors of his lips. Then Belmont smirked, that roguish, knowing arrogance. “Come on Duchess; say my name in that nice way.”

“Call him Your Royal Peepness,” Sypha interjected with a sarcastic tone, but her attempt at defiance was ruined by her pleasured cry as Trevor angled higher. Adrian’s moment was gone but he didn’t even miss it.

“Quiet brat, the men are talking,” Trevor clucked scornfully and Sypha smacked his chest with a fluttering hand. Oh she’ll make you pay for that, Adrian thought, and groaned as he watched her delicate flesh engulf Belmont.

“Fuck you,” she gasped out and the sculptor laughed, dropping a kiss on her outstretched calf.

“You are babe. And I’m taking it like a champ,” he groaned, as Adrian slid his hand between them. He spread his fingers to allow Trevor’s shaft to move between them while he framed her entrance.

Sypha hissed and kissed the underside of the painter’s chin. Lazy but firm, the blonde moved his hand against both of them. “Yes, oh—that’s, Adrian,” she whispered against his skin and Belmont sped up fractionally. He’s close, the blonde thought and squeezed gently. It was like being caught between two elementals seeking equilibrium—Sypha’s wet curve, Belmont’s hot crush—and he spoke.

“So beautiful,” Adrian curved his fingers, sliding with the thrust. Sypha nipped his throat and he shuddered. “Everything I could ever want, everything I need. So perfect, so gorgeous.” He danced his fingertips over where they joined and Trevor convulsed with a groan, panting and muttering endearments about his lovers.

There’d been a bit of a scramble for clothing when the limo had slowed and then a collective laugh when they realized it was just the first light into the city. Still, Adrian had yanked his clothes on quickly and opened the sunroof for fresh air. He had realized his mistake when Trevor popped up, buck ass naked and shouted, “I just had sex!” The car beside them honked appreciatively and Belmont waved before the blonde could yank him back down.

If Julius hadn’t heard that it was a damn miracle…Adrian thought again. It was a blessing that all the staff was loyal, well-paid and had signed non-disclosure agreements as well. He would never admit it because he didn’t want to encourage him but after the initial alarm had passed, it was hilarious. He took another swig from his water bottle, watching Sypha try on hats and Trevor talk with Saint Germaine, who was just a delightful character.

Saint Germaine was famous in the right circles. Every time that Adrian came to Lindenfeld’s he learned something new about the man. Saint had lived an incredibly eclectic life and spent a great deal of his time out at estate sales, auction houses and living a nomadic life. He would even go overseas if he thought it would be worth it. As a result, he had one of the most incredible collections of second-hand fashion, art, home décor and furniture in the country. Lindenfeld’s was the great meeting of money and taste and all the Tepes adored it. For Adrian, it meant that he could indulge his love for quality without taking his parents money and still afford to eat. Most of the time.

It was a pleasant surprise that Saint was actually here; more often than not, one of his clerks would be helping him. Several of Vlad’s iconic capes had come from Lindenfeld’s, Lisa’s wedding veil and literally every clothing item Adrian bought for himself came from here. By far his favorite item and certainly the one with the most sentimental value for his family was the La Peregrina.

Vlad had wanted something unique and beautiful for his 20th wedding anniversary gift to Lisa and had been consulting with Winston’s and Cartier. He was frustrated by his options, wanting something timeless and historical.

Saint had called him in the middle of the night. A two and a half minute explanation revealed that the pearl gifted from Prince Philip II of Spain to his wife Mary Tudor of England, before making its way to the Bonaparte family, and finally being purchased by Richard Burton for none other than Elizabeth Taylor, was available for approximately the next 13 minutes. Currently set with diamonds, rubies and pearls, it was a steal because they would bypass the auction house. Germaine would broker for a fraction of the fee and guaranteed authenticity. Would Vlad care to purchase it?

One transmitted photo, a call to Vlad’s personal broker and the Taylor-Burton pearls became the Tepes pearls. Between the necklace and the story, it became another headline for people to sigh over. Even their son agreed that it was terribly romantic.

Every time his mother wore it, Adrian had to admit that absurd as the cost was, and he could only guess, the necklace was exquisite. There was nothing quite like it in the world and the setting was the perfect balance of outrageous and elegant. But it was the way his father looked at Lisa when she wore it and the way she would touch it and look at Vlad, that was why he valued it so. It was one of those things he would likely never part with because of it.

Trevor laughed loudly and clapped a hand on Saint, who was telling a story about smuggling Greek statuary that sounded risque. Sypha looked over and grinned. It slapped him across the face as he unexpectedly saw Sypha in the necklace, diamonds winking and pearls glimmering against creamy skin.

It was sudden, abrupt and uncomfortable and the implications sucked the air out of the room. Thirty years from now, what would it be like? Would his lovers still be his? Would his parents still be with him, or would he actually have had to resolve the legacy of his parents and their staggering wealth? Adrian wasn’t ashamed to say that he had actively avoided thinking about his inheritance and the Tepes legacy. His intention had always been to funnel a healthy chunk to his extended family, into the Tepes scholarship, donate to a few organizations that were close to his heart, and leave the rest for any children he might have.

Adrian wasn’t blind to his own propensity for comfort and quality, but he also knew that the money he was given monthly would always be far more than he could ever use. He was painfully aware it was a fraction of what was actually in the family's name. On the other hand, he thought looking at the two people he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, I could take care of them. We could live on the island year round and leave everything behind. I could—

Sypha turned to him, “Saint says this one came from Germany, he thinks 1924? I adore it. What do you think?"

“It’s beautiful,” he said and meant it. Soft wool the color of lush berries, it framed Sypha’s face like a bloom and highlighted her eyes. “Let me get it for you, I am buying Trevor boots, this can be your gift."

Sypha laughed and shook her head. “No thank you, I can get it! I just have to decide between the grey and this one.” Out of the corner of his eye, the blonde saw Trevor’s face and his little fantasy came crashing down. The painter suddenly understood that there might be a bit of a tussle at the cash register and his exasperation rose.

He will never be a kept man, Tepes thought with frustration and appreciation. But your mother is not a kept woman and she shares everything with your father! he argued with himself. It’s different though, she came into the relationship on equal footing financially. They made their fortune together. Well, mostly. He made a mental note to ask his mother how she navigated that. She was not Belmont by any stretch but it couldn’t hurt to get her point of view.

With shock, Adrian realized that he had a lump in his throat. Would he never be sure of himself with Belmont? Would it always be a question of history and money? The blonde loved the sculptor with a painful intensity. The idea of always holding that insecure, sick ball in his stomach when Tepes tried to give him anything, hurt. He couldn’t imagine it, didn’t want to.

The painter took a breath and looked up to see Sypha watching him in the mirror. Her brows rose and he stood. “I’m just going to grab a tea from next door, anyone want anything?”

Armed with the drink orders, he stepped toward the door. The moment he was outside his phone buzzed. Are you alright? What is wrong? Sypha messaged him and he wrote back quickly, afraid she might follow him. He just needed a moment.

Everything is okay, he texted, was thinking about how to get Trevor to take a damn gift without complaining 😊

Easy, she wrote back immediately, make it a joke. Tell him until he fucks you, he will be punished.

Now there is a thought, Adrian thought with a small grin as he strode forward. He thumped solidly into the tall man who stepped out from beside the building. “Oh no! I am so sorry, I beg your—” You, he thought, once again drawn to the utter assurance and unflappable composure.

“Alucard Tepes,” Agent Isaac said. “I would have a word with you, if you please.”

--- 

Color me your color, baby
Color me your car
Color me your color, darling
I know who you are
Come up off your color chart
I know where you're coming from
Cover me with kisses, baby
Cover me with love
Roll me in designer sheets
I'll never get enough
Emotions come, I don't know why
Cover up love's alibi
Call me on the line
Call me, call me any, anytime
Call me I'll arrive
You can call me any day or night
Call me
-“Call Me,” Blondie

Notes:

For the record, I keep trying to plot and the trio keeps sneaking sex in there. Like, I am trying here!!
__
Happy New Year and see you in 2021!
--
In case you were interested:
The History of La Peregrina
The Tepes Pearls (The current setting)
---
The trio: Erik Andersson-Adrian, Angelina Michelle-Sypha, Trevor-Pablo Curto. Photography all from Pexels. Legs from Francesca Zama, car seat from cottonbro, painting from Steve Johnson. Peeps from Peeps Marshmallow candies, all rights reserved.

Chapter 27: One man caught on a barbed wire fence

Summary:

“You love Belmont.” It was not a question and the painter did not respond either way. “You love your father. I wonder,” the FBI agent said carefully. “Which love might spur you to ask the most important questions?”

“And what questions might those be?” Tepes asked sarcastically, fear hammering nails at the base of his throat. This was a public execution and all he could do was hide the damage until he could escape.

“Why are they lying to you?” Isaac asked simply, hands in the pockets of his coat.

Notes:

Jan 3-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Saint was a fascinating man and Trevor liked him on sight. Normally someone with fastidious manners who dressed like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to channel 1980’s Prince or a bored monarch at the opera wouldn’t be Belmont’s first choice, but the man was charismatic. His stories about Italy made Trevor instantly nostalgic for the trips with his parents but it soothed, rather than stung.

He’d quickly come to the conclusion that Germaine was a flirt and proceeded to enjoy an easy banter and then friendly debate on the homoeroticism in Roman statuary. They hadn’t even made it to the boots yet but like a bird with something shiny, Sypha had found the hats. Seemingly content just to watch, Adrian lounged on the couch. For some reason, the little smile the painter wore as he held court from the crushed velvet sofa brought that portrait, ‘The Prince,’ to mind.

“But apparently the Pope kept them for his own personal collection so, oh, almost 10 years ago now, some poor sod wandered around the Vatican with a box of phalluses and tried to match them up!” Saint gave a dainty snort.

Trevor roared with laughter. It was too easy to see some blushing scholar in the dead of night holding up dicks to the statues and muttering, “too big,” “too small,” “just right.” He clapped a hand on Saint and tried not to wheeze. “My folks forgot to mention that when we toured.”

“To be sure, it is not part of the standard spiel,” Saint Germaine winked at him. “But I like to think that there are those of us, present company included, who understand the importance of the full picture when it comes to art history.”

Trevor grinned, “Absolutely. This is the kind of art history that I would never tire of hearing.”

Germaine arched a brow, “I might have another story then, although this one is about—” Trevor’s ear caught Adrian telling Sypha that he intended to buy Trevor’s boots. Fuck that, Belmont thought instantly, I can do it myself. I don’t want you—

“Perhaps that story is a little much, I apologize,” Saint said smoothly and Trevor’s attention snapped back.

“No, I am sorry, I just remembered something annoying. Please, I do really want to hear it.” Belmont urged, offering an apologetic smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Trevor saw Adrian stand.

“I’m just going to grab a tea from next door, anyone want anything?” the blonde asked. Moments later, Adrian was gone and Sypha wandered over to them, a brilliantly cherry mauve hat in her hands.

“Ah, madam, excellent choice,” Saint said smoothly and put out his hand. “I will place it by the till for you if you would like.”

“Thank you Saint, that would be great. Before you run off though, tell me, is there anything that Adrian has on layaway?” What does that mean? Trevor wondered. Why would Adrian have anything on layaway?

Saint smiled. “Indeed, he does, would you like to see it? Our little secret of course. You are thinking for his birthday, I presume?” Trevor started slightly, thinking of the commission request. Just how soon was Adrian’s birthday anyway?

Sypha batted her lashes, “Why Saint, you know me so well.”

“Mr. Belmont, would you be able to make an excuse to Mr. Tepes when he returns?” Saint’s voice was conspiratorial. “We’ll need to go into the back for a moment.”

“I take it this is something Adrian wants and you are thinking of getting it for him?” Trevor asked Sypha and her grin was huge. “I’ll think of something; go, have your fun.” They walked off arm in arm.

“Why layaway?” Trevor mused quietly, eyes roving over the hats, scarves and handbags. Usually you put things on layaway because you couldn't pay for it up front. Why would Adrian need to do that? Finding nothing interesting here, he wandered down the aisle, nodding to one of the clerks arranging knick-knacks on a shelf. He came to the foot of a winding staircase and went up. It was quiet but brightly lit, the sun streaming in from giant windows at the end of the loft. A large painting hung at the top of the stairs. Finely rendered in oil paints, it depicted a pirate’s chest overflowing with gold coins, strings of pearls and gems winking in dim light. A lovingly polished brass plaque adorned the entire span of the top of the frame. He read the spidery script: “The Infinite Corridor.”

Okkkay, Trevor thought with amusement, and stepped into the room. The space downstairs was ridiculously organized and spread out like a fashion magazine. This was different. Still filled with beautiful things, it was more haphazard, shelves featuring all manners of items. It’s a treasure trove, Belmont thought, feeling more at home than he had down below. It wasn’t so different from his thrifting really. It was all a matter of hunting and he was an excellent adventurer.

He picked up a small paperweight with a swirl of gold and red in the center. $25—the tag said. Okay, it’s different, he thought as he carefully placed it back. No touching Belmont, he told himself. It wasn’t an unreasonable price truthfully, but simply unobtainable for him in his current circumstances. He needed to remain watchful of his finances and keep his goals in mind. Being with his lovers made that part of him relax somewhat but he needed to stay aware or he could find himself in serious trouble.

Scowling, he put his hands in his pockets and turned. Sypha was right, you have a hang up, he admonished himself. Of course I do, there is no back up plan for me. No other chance. Nothing else I could do.

He stopped in front of a rack of ties and belts, staring unseeingly at them. Is this what Adrian feels? What about Sypha? I know they are passionate about their art and I know it matters to them but what if they can't make a go of it? What would they do? Where do I fit in there?

Frustrated with this train of thought, he flicked his hand against the belts. The leather parted and something geometric caught his eye. “Hello, what are you?” he asked, distracted and grateful for it. He extracted it from the pack and held it up to the light.

It was handmade; braided and wrapped leather, slightly worn but surprisingly supple. The buckle though, that was what had caught his eye and looking at it, his interest deepened. It was a little longer than his thumb and shaped like a diamond but the edges were sheared off and indented. Rising out of the diamond was another one, but folded upward to create a three-dimensional form. Delicately threaded in the center of it was a silver chain.

“You are entirely too cool and I think I need you.” It was a sculpture and paying for art was not something Trevor generally blinked at, although he rarely bought. Still, the price tag made him wince. I’ll just hold it for a moment and see if I—

He heard Adrian’s voice. The words were muffled but the tone was coldly furious. Instantly alert, he gripped his find and charged over the window. Looking down he saw Isaac. Motherf--

He couldn’t see Adrian but he could hear him, just above the hum of the street. “You suggested that he caused his parents death. If you think I would consider anything—”

“You! Son of a bitch!” Trevor exploded in a hiss filled with venom and whirled for the stairs.

----

Carefully, Adrian composed his face and narrowed his eyes. “I have nothing to say to you.” You humiliated my beloved and dragged him through the campus in handcuffs, he thought. You drove a wedge between us because I had to call a lawyer.

Isaac was tall, contained and dressed entirely in black, save for a vermilion red Pashmina scarf that was neatly tucked into the neckline of his coat. It wasn’t that cold, Adrian thought, even as he appreciated the elegant exclamation of color against the clean lines of the trench coat. The agent spread his hands, all reason and tranquility. “I am not here in an official capacity whatsoever.”

“Excellent,” Adrian said coldly and made to step around the man. “Then we are done here.” Be gone before Trevor sees you and the good mood is ruined, the painter thought. I would guard his happiness from you.

“I had hoped to speak with you but I suppose I could find Trevor for another discussion,” Isaac said calmly.

Adrian whirled and felt his temper flare. “This is harassment and Soma will have a field day. We will get a restraining or—“

Isaac was studying him with those endlessly patient eyes. The predator he’d seen in them was stalking now and Adrian felt a deep unease. He trailed off and the federal agent spoke. “You love him; how interesting. I had not considered that possibility. It seemed…unlikely.”

Oh no, Adrian thought with serious concern. Trevor made him far too transparent to too many people. He would have to work on tempering this reaction down as far as possible. He forced himself to plunge into that placid, numb place that he reserved for his interviews and public appearances with his parents.

“What a charming thought. Of course, not one I would share with you, even if it were true.” Adrian replied in a completely neutral tone. He was aware that this was like facing down a hungry lion with no fence between them. There was no question that Saint would show the agent the door the moment he tried to interact with the trio in his shop, but the damage would be done. Adrian was under no illusion that the tale would reach his father as well, should it come to that.

Shit, he thought, now there was a mess. Father would not care to be associated with a person of interest to the FBI.

Immediately Adrian bristled at his own thought. Trevor was not a person of interest. He was being systematically harassed and that was something that his father would understand and would not tolerate. In fact…

“My father would not take kindly to your continued attention to my friend,” Adrian said with a hint of warning. It was love that had him invoking his father’s formidable name in defense of Trevor, in a way that would never occur to him to do for himself.

Isaac’s smile was ice glinting in a winter sun and there was something unpleasant under the surface. “Your father has an intriguing history with your friend. You might very well be right.”

The painter simply blanked out for a moment. Years of hiding his emotions served him well. His face remained impassive, seemingly considering. Internally, he scrambled to dodge plummeting panels of the stained-glass windows of his heart. The longer he absorbed the agent’s words, the more the colorful glass fell onto him, until the ground was glittering shards. That's impossible, there's simply no way, he thought instantly. How? But the agent's face remained impassive, his eyes direct.

There was no history, his brain whimpered. There can’t be. He’d never heard either of his parents mention Belmont International Gallery and as far as he knew, they’d never bought from them either. Which actually, was something of a surprise considering how prestigious BIG was within the artistic community. Wait, hadn’t there been a couple of purchases from BIG for… No, that wasn’t for the Tepes collection, that had been a gift to the National Art Museum. Two portraits…

The painter suddenly realized that the silence had been absolute for too long.

“I am afraid I have no idea what you are referring to,” Tepes said calmly, arching a finely wrought brow. “My father has never met Trevor.” That he could state with certainty. There had been no hint of recognition or suggestion of it when they’d spoken on the phone. For Trevor’s part, he was certain the sculptor would have told him ahead of time, especially given their conversation on the scholarship.

It wasn’t like there was some conspiracy to hide something from him.

“That may be true, but Lord Tepes knew his parents. Did business with them,” Isaac paused, “Eight figures worth of business.”

That’s impossible, Adrian thought immediately and opened his mouth to refute it.

“Not all at once of course,” Isaac continued. “Their business ties lasted a few years.” Well that can be explained—“and only ceased with their deaths.” The emphasis that the FBI agent put on the word deaths made his world shiver and the stained-glass windows in his heart trembled again. The hungry lion had pounced.

“My father had nothing to do with that.” Adrian worked for serenity. Never show emotion, he recited like an incantation. Breakdown in private. Don’t give them anything to talk about. “Any business that he conducted with the Belmonts—if he did at all— would have related to the purchase and sale of artwork. He has an extensive collection and—“

“Yes, he does,” the FBI agent interrupted. There was a small crook at the side of his mouth that couldn’t decide if it was a grimace or a smile. Despite himself, Tepes’ fingers itched for his sketch pad. “As does your mother. But all those purchases go through his broker, do they not? And there is usually a referential addition to the Tepes Art Trust Collection website. Neither of these things happened in this case.”

Doubt was a rotting fruit on his tongue and Adrian said nothing. There are many things I am not privy to, he told himself, it doesn’t mean there is something underhanded at work. He hated to wonder, even as those measuring, confident eyes found his. The blonde wished ardently that Isaac would look away. But he didn’t.

“Furthermore, these were personal transfers,” the man said, lobbing rocks with the cruelty of a schoolboy. “The money came from a discretionary expense account and correlated with an influx of funds from several sources. I am still tracing those back to their source but your parents put a sizeable amount of their own cash into—“

“Stop.” Adrian made himself laugh, a dry husk of his normal melted honey tone. Inside, he was wailing. “This is absurd and insulting. No wonder you are not here in an official capacity! If any of this were true the Justice Department would—“

For the first time, Adrian saw an emotion rise from the depths of Isaac’s guarded eyes. His skin prickled and he stopped speaking immediately. It was pure self-preservation in the face of something terrifying. “Your father is an extraordinarily powerful man. Justice doesn’t always survive such influences.”

Adrian took a step back and Isaac’s overpowering menace disappeared just as quickly. There was a small tell though, when the agent carefully straightened his cuffs and tilted his head. It was enough of a careless, needless motion that it underscored his sincerity.

He’s not lying, Vlad’s son thought with such deep horror that it threatened to scream through his skin and fill the air with a soundtrack of wails. But he could be wrong, his heart shouted desperately. If my father had anything to do with the deaths of the Belmonts…

Trevor, the painter thought and knew it would be over between them. There would be no forgiveness for that amount of sin, that pain ran too deep and too strong. And could you blame him? Adrian asked himself. Would I still be in love with the son of someone who had a hand in the destruction of my family? Besides, he doesn’t even love you. He cares for you and wants you, but that’s a far cry from the kind of love that would survive such a thing.

“You love Belmont.” It was not a question and the painter did not respond either way. “You love your father. I wonder,” the FBI agent said carefully. “Which love might spur you to ask the most important questions?”

“And what questions might those be?” Tepes asked sarcastically, fear hammering nails at the base of his throat. This was a public execution and all he could do was hide the damage until he could escape.

“Why are they lying to you?” Isaac asked simply, hands in the pockets of his coat.

“Oh, now it is they?” The blonde scoffed, even as his mind creaked in protest at the new weight. Not his mother too. There was no bearing his father much less if his mother was implicated. He would not survive the certain decimation of his heart.

“Yes, although I confess, I haven’t been able to determine any connection between Christopher Wise and Vlad as of yet. “ Not Mother, Trevor. As though Belmont and Father were—

The FBI agent shrugged, a tiny shift of his shoulders. “It appears that you didn’t even know that it was Trevor when you made the purchase. It may have been an incredible coincidence. But how many can you accept? How many will I?”

The tiniest whimper escaped the painter and he quickly firmed his lips. He’d suspected of course, but this was confirmation. It’d nagged him when he’d seen the sketches of ‘Trio,’ but the blonde had told himself it was impossible, just a coincidence. It became a shattering certainty the moment Sypha had uncovered ‘Torrent,’ at Belmont’s old apartment.

How stupid could you be? his brain had screamed at him. This was why Wise’s work had seemed so familiar and the same reason he’d kept copies of some of C. Leon’s photographs that were submitted with his application. That deep sense of knowing, connection, seeing oneself in the mirror of another’s soul. Here it was again and riding on the cape of a profound agony.

Did Belmont think he was a fool? Did he simply not care if Adrian knew? Did he think that the painter wouldn’t mind? Worse, did he intend to hide it forever? The ugly part of the blonde’s mind, the part that was always on guard against being used, spoke up abruptly. How many coincidences around money are you going to ignore? it had asked him.

Like a landslide, the love had buried it all with calm reason. It was entirely possible that Belmont had no idea Adrian had bought his work. He’d struggled to remember if Trevor had caught that part of the presentation in the drawing class. He recalled that the sculptor had come late that day but it was a blur with the FBI showing up.

His mother and he had left instructions that Alucard’s purchase remain sealed until after the show because he hadn’t wanted additional media for the opening. Wanted to be able to be genuine when he met the artist whose work touched him in such a profound way. The irony of course, was this particular artist had touched him far more than he'd originally thought.

Trust him, his heart had said. Whatever the reason, this is his secret and you have no right to confront him about it. You assumed the worst before, do not do it again. Instead, he’d allowed that wonder that always overtook over him when he looked at the sculptor’s work to seep in.

It filled him, brilliant as a breaking dawn through dewy grass and he’d put his hand out to touch. The moment his fingertips had swept over the twisting metal, faintly glowing like it was filled with buried embers, he’d known it for certain.

How many identities did Trevor have? He’d pondered, almost amused. How long will he lie to you? His wounded heart had asked. Until he can trust you, his brain retorted. It’s up to you to give him that space and love to make it possible. You destroyed it before when you accused him for the scholarship; will you repeat your mistake?

So he’d said nothing and only spoke the truth of his admiration for the breathtaking piece. But that night as his lovers slept, he’d touched the glittering metal with his heart in his throat and reminded himself he was lucky. That he had more than he deserved already. But still he ached.

The next morning he’d called the gallery in the safety of an empty classroom. He’d given Hector permission to tell Christopher Wise who’d purchased his art and about the first option on all of his works. He’d be damned if the piece in the sketch he’d seen in Trevor’s studio would go to anyone but him. And that was before I knew it was ‘Trio,’ he thought possessively.

“Christopher Wise is a talented artist. So is Trevor Belmont.” Tepes hedged, as his mind raced. A painful clarity descended, the chill of a mountain wind in the sweltering room of his emotions. Of course, that would be why, he thought and felt marginally steadier.

“If the FBI hadn’t insinuated that Trevor was involved, perhaps he wouldn’t need a pseudonym.” Perhaps he wouldn’t believe he murdered his parents! he snarled inwardly. “You suggested that he caused his parents death. If you think I would consider anything you have to say, you have delusions of—“

Isaac’s sharp disbelief was plain and it was troubling. Adrian paused. “Now that was something you didn’t know, wasn’t it?” Maybe there was an opportunity here for him to get some answers for his lover.

“Godbrand told Trevor that the text he sent to his cousin was the reason that his parents were murdered. However, his cousin never texted him back and none of his family will speak to him.” Something about the disgust in the man’s gaze prompted the blonde to continue. “Trevor knows nothing about how the case is progressing and is tormented by it.”

Isaac’s mouth compressed unhappily. “The case is ongoing and I cannot—“ Adrian hissed and stepped around him. It shocked both of them when the FBI agent put out his hand and settled it on Tepes’ shoulder. His grip was urgently tight. “He didn’t.” Isaac said in a quiet rush. “His cousin never told anyone. You can only share th—“

The door slammed open hard enough that the cheerful greeting bells clanged with terror and fell to the ground. Deadly rage stepped out onto the sidewalk. Isaac’s hand tensed and the painter’s breath caught in his throat. He’d seen Trevor angry before but this was something else.

The patched camo pants and scuffed army boots that he’d always thought were cute seemed menacing now and the faded picture of the monster from Aliens seemed somehow less laughable as it leered from Trevor’s chest. The torn edges of the sleeves framed tensed muscles that bulged with anticipation. The trio of chains and their crosses clinked quietly as the cords in the sculptor’s neck stood out, running a line of tension down his entire arm to his clenched fist. His knuckles were white and the vein in his forehead pulsed.

When the Belmont spoke, it was low and filled with barely contained malevolence. It wasn’t a warning or a threat. It was a vow. “Touching him was a big mistake, Isaac. You messing with me is one thing, but putting your hands on, Adrian? You’ve crossed the line.”

This is ridiculous, Adrian thought, even as his heart thrilled at Belmont’s protectiveness. Okay, hot, but still.

“I am not afraid of Vlad T—.” Isaac began, even as he removed his hand carefully.

Trevor’s scoff was filled with derision. “He is not your immediate problem. I was speaking for me.” His smile was unfriendly, but triumphant. “Although, Vlad sends his regards.” He nodded behind the two men and Adrian closed his eyes when he heard Julius clear his throat.

This is a whole other problem, he thought with dismay.

“I’m going to have to insist that you step away from Master Tepes, sir,” Julius murmured quietly.

This is going to be a huge disaster if I don’t do something right now, Adrian thought, as people coming out of the coffee shop behind Julius nudged and pointed.

“I am a—“ Isaac began, reaching for his badge.

“Don’t do that,” Adrian said coolly. “All my father’s men are armed and you haven’t identified yourself prior to reaching. He would be justified in shooting you and I do not want that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Trevor said softly, even he shook his head to Julius, who ignored him.

“Master Tepes, please move away from this man,” Julius said and the painter did, backing up to Trevor who stepped in front of him.

Julius relaxed slightly and came around to Isaac’s front, subtly standing to the side of Trevor, creating a barrier between Tepes and the agent.

Oh for the love of—Adrian thought, I am a grown man and there is no danger here! “I am fine you two. Isaac was not threatening me. Please, people are staring.”

Isaac had not moved and now he looked to Trevor, “There is only so much you can avoid for so long Belmont. This will not end well if you do not ask.”

Ask what? Adrian wondered, inhaling sharply.

The sculptor hissed. “I won’t, and I don’t believe you.”

Isaac regarded him calmly and simply said, “I think Alucard does.”

Trevor stiffened and he took a step forward. “What did you tell him? Why? I won’t let you hurt him or his family, Isaac. You’ve overstepped yourself and if you think—”

“Please stop,” Adrian said quietly, putting his hand on Trevor’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze before his hand drew away. When he tried to ease by the two men, he found himself blocked. Irritation rose, but he was mindful of the audience they had garnered.

With an inner wince, he noted that two women standing across the street had their cell phones out and were likely recording. Motherfucking hell, he swore in his head. He would have to call his father right away so the publicist could prepare a statement.

He spoke from behind two shoulders, on the step of Lindenfeld’s and in a low, urgent tone. “Agent Isaac, thank you for the words you gave me prior to this interruption. I am afraid I have nothing else I can say in regards to your queries. I lack the knowledge to answer your questions. I will consider, and please note the emphasis I put on consider, what we’ve discussed. If I have anything further to add, I will be in touch. May I have your card?”

There was a flicker of surprise in the agent’s eyes before his gaze settled on Julius. “May I reach for my badge and my card? I am a federal agent, although, I would stress to all present, that I am not here in any official capacity.”

Julius nodded and Isaac deftly plucked a card from his long coat and presented it to the bodyguard, who took it.

Trevor growled, vibrating with anger. “Are you fucking kidding—”

“Please, there is a crowd, please, Trevor,” the blonde begged and used the shield of Julius’ body to stroke a heart into Belmont’s back. The sculptor shuddered but thankfully fell silent. I love you, the painter pleaded, please, let us deal with this in private.

“Let’s go back to Sypha,” he said to Trevor before turning to Julius. “We will be a while yet still. I have purchases to make.”

“Of course, sir. However, I will remain here.” He kept his eyes on Isaac. “As a precaution.”

Damn it, there was no way Father wouldn’t hear about this now, he thought bitterly.

“I am leaving. Alucard, please call me. I beg your pardon for any misunderstanding.” The agent turned and moved toward the onlookers. He didn’t hesitate or look at any of them and the crowd simply parted for the tall, dark apparition who disappeared as silently as he’d come.

---
One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One man come, he to justify
One man to overthrow
One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man, he resist
One man washed on an empty beach
One man betrayed with a kiss
In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love?

-"Pride (In the Name of Love)," U2

Notes:

I was asking my partner which lyric I should use for the title and my kiddo suggested, "Twinkle Beauty," "Crown of the Eagle," and then settled on "Snowflake of the butterfly beauty." They have no idea what the story is about. Can you tell?
---
Isaac -Model is Roger Dupe, Adrian-Model is Erik Andersson, Trevor-Model is Leo Mangieri. Painterly background is Pexels, photographer @didssph (Twitter).

Chapter 28: Let's exchange the experience

Summary:

He was turned slowly and that’s when he realized his mistake. Anticipation slammed back into him with the force of the earth rushing up to meet a skydiver. Trevor wasn’t calmer and there was nothing rational in his face. The moment sharpened with vicious lucidity. The brunette’s eyes seemed to glow with a supernatural assurance, jaw set determinedly and the tiniest smirk playing on his lips. The smirk seemed to say, ‘I will take everything from you and you will love me for it.’

That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Adrian’s heart said quietly, I already do and you can't take what I would give you without question.

Notes:

Content Warning: Possessive behavior and consensual hard biting.
Jan 8-ISOB

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

They watched Isaac move into the crowd until he disappeared.

“Motherfucking piece of shit that I would just—” Trevor turned to Adrian and took his arm. “Inside. Now.”

Julius cleared his throat again, in such a way that made Adrian’s already strained nerves shriek in protest. Trevor turned to the man; teeth bared. The driver didn’t bat an eye as he spoke, “My instructions are very clear, sir. Master Tepes is not to be harmed. By anyone. Friend or—”

Oh no, Julius, don’t, Adrian thought, but it was far too late.

“Fucking friend.” Trevor snarled again and Adrian felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. Trevor had been pushed too far, too fast by this scene with Isaac and they needed to get somewhere private now.

“Stop, both of you. Trevor, let’s go. Julius, I assure you I am fine, he will not hurt me. Please, give me a moment here to finish up and we will be on our way.” He opened the door to the boutique and locked eyes with Belmont. The moment stretched out like an ancient bicycle tire that had been overinflated. The cracks were showing now and the slightest pressure in the wrong direction would cause an explosion.

With a bad-tempered jerk, the brunette strode through the door and Adrian followed him. Thank you, Trevor; thank you, the blonde thought and then realized the sculptor was moving. Belmont stalked to the back of the store and Tepes skipped to catch up.

“There you guys are!” Sypha said with a laugh before she got a good look at Trevor’s face. “Oh shit, what…?”

“We need a minute Sypha; please just distract Saint? Please, I must talk to Trevor.” The redhead nodded and headed in the opposite direction, one worried glance back. His pause had caused him to fall behind the sculptor again. His apprehension grew as he saw Belmont barrel through the door to the restroom. Not willing to draw attention, Adrian refused to run, but his step was quick when he hit the door. He half-expected it to be locked but it opened under his hand.

The space was small, elegant and clean. Towels were piled by the gleaming sink and there was a faintly fresh cotton scent in the air. The lovely oval mirror over the sink showed him that his eyes were too huge, his skin too pale. Anxious awareness stared back at him with the pleading sadness of a fawn lost in the woods. Don’t do that, he thought, trying to firm his chin.

Where--? He started to wonder but as the door swung shut behind him, he saw Trevor out of the corner of his eye. Dark intent rolled off of Belmont like mist off the side of a mountain and the blonde’s anxiety peaked hard. “I’m—” Adrian started to apologize, but it was too late.

“You are mine,” Trevor grated harshly and roughly pushed him against the door. “Tell me, I need to hear it.” There was something burning in his eyes, like a forest fire looming on the horizon, seemingly far away but much closer than you would think.

He’s far too angry, Adrian thought with alarm and a flare of awareness, and we’ll both be burned.

“Trevor, it’s not about that—” the blonde started, reaching up to grasp the tense wrist that pinned him to the door.

“The fuck it isn’t,” Belmont growled at him, and wrenched the hem of the silk shirt out of the waistband of his slacks.

Wait, what—Adrian had the chance to think before strong palms stroked up the scar on his chest. The thought was lost in the powerful sensations sweeping over his torso and falling into his limbs.

“You want me to watch. To be silent—” Trevor’s thumb stroked over the blonde's jaw in time with his hand on bare chest, thumb dipping down to press against the side of his windpipe. There was no stopping the flutter of the painter’s eyelashes as his eyes rolled back in blissful surrender. “While Isaac manhandles you and I do nothing?” His mouth followed his hand over Adrian’s jaw, retracing his steps in the snow of the painter’s skin. He bit down, frank, forceful demand, until the painter moaned.

Yes, just like that, the blonde thought as the door to rational thought swung closed.  He forgot where they were, he forgot who he was and he forgot everything but the burning heat spreading under his skin and the release sought, that could only come from the man touching him.

“You want me to let the damned limo driver protect you,” Trevor nipped down his throat, each edge of his teeth sending shudders through Tepes. “While I pretend to be your friend?!” The outrage was so bitterly unhappy that it cut through the heaping mounds of lust and the painter's eyes flew open.

Blue so fierce it seemed to unravel from Trevor's eyes stabbed into the blonde with miserable fury. “Fucking say it, Adrian. You belong to me.”

“I do,of course, but…” the painter started to say, his tone placating. Belmont snarled, a wild, angry warning.

“You,” the brunette spat out with poignant frustration, “Are,” he grasped Adrian’s wrists and drew them up over his head, working one wide palm around the joined limbs. “Mine.” The last word was a hissed vow that tangled everything inside of the painter into a tight, airless knot. There was no request in these words, only demand to acknowledge what they both should already know.

It was a lashed cord between them, pulling tight and thick until there was no breath lost between them, no sensation that wasn’t felt by the other. The world spun. Suddenly the blonde found himself pressed heavily into the door, Trevor’s substantial frame a solid, hot weight against his back.

“There is no escaping it, Adrian,” Trevor crooned into his ear, somehow loving, somehow threatening. “No escaping me now.” Desire twined with nervousness. I don’t know what he is saying, what he is doing, the painter thought, breath coming in small gasps. I’m not trying to… That darkly satisfied voice, right in his ear, “Mine.” A hot, wet lick on his throat, just under his ear. The voice was Trevor, but there was something in the shadows that was riding shotgun inside him. “No ‘buts,’ ‘ifs’ or ‘ands.’"

Tepes tried to understand what was driving this. Surely the sculptor knew that there was no question of their relationship. We all belong to each other, he thought. He knows that, doesn’t he? Or is it that he…

He felt Trevor’s fingertips push his hair to the side and then, suddenly, there was a divine, tugging pain. Belmont had latched onto his neck and set his teeth on the tender flesh. Adrian squirmed against the sculptor with a whimper, unsure if he was trying to get away or arch closer. It didn’t seem to matter to Trevor. The brunette cradled him, hair pulled firmly to the side, teeth gripping firmly, skin caught just as surely as Adrian's body was. Bizarrely, it felt protective, just as much as it felt possessive.

I can’t survive this, Adrian thought wildly. It was delirium, to be touched with such intense focus. To feel the need slapping against his skin from Belmont’s frustrated words, and live the translation of it into desire in those strong, clever fingers. The sculptor was sowing fields of it; healthy, potent crops springing up as though Adrian’s nerve-endings were the rivers feeding it.

He still couldn’t move. For a moment, he wondered what would happen if he really tried. The helplessness should have disturbed him. The complete loss of control should have horrified him. He’d fully intended to demand Trevor let him go immediately. But when he opened his mouth, the sound Tepes made was the purest note of submission and he didn’t even know it.

But Trevor did, and it infused his throbbing, impotent fury with a heady certainty.

There was a slow, hard grind against his ass and Adrian keened, lost but to beg. “Oh yes, more, give it to me. Trevor please. Please.” Belmont did it again, just as slowly, and flexed his jaw, teeth digging into the sore spot on the painter’s neck.

Adrian gasped and made a low, needy sound as he felt the unmistakably hard length of Trevor’s arousal. He tried arch back, to curve his ass more firmly into the rigid heat and Belmont bit down a fraction harder. It hurt and Adrian gave a little cry, but the sculptor had already released the skin from his mouth.

“Not a chance, Tepes.” Belmont licked over the abused spot. “We’re not going anywhere until this is solved. You seem to be confused about what we are, and that I just won’t tolerate.” Adrian’s pride prickled. That is more than enough, the painter thought with rising temper and Trevor thrust against him, hard enough that the blonde squeaked. His cock was caught between his hip and the door with a slight pinch. Despite himself, Adrian’s lust catapulted into the sky.

“You wanted me to fuck you, right? Well, I am, but…” the brunette’s thrust again, adding a little slide that dragged that glorious length against the valley of the blonde’s ass. “Huh," there was undisguised satisfaction in Trevor's voice. “That ‘but’ can make all the difference can’t it?”

Adrian wanted to make a quip about butts in general but his mouth seemed unable to form sounds that weren’t prayerful little pleas. How did he know how much I needed him to touch me like this? The thought crawled through the torrid want. I didn’t even know it. With shocking competence, Trevor was decimating him. Thought, pride, protest—none of it existed in the protective snare of his lover’s body.

We aren’t even undressed, the painter thought with bewilderment, while Trevor’s scraping journey across his ass elicited another frantic pant of desire from the blonde. But somehow, he is fucking me. He was hyper-aware of the fully aroused state both men were in. And it’s everything I wanted and nowhere near enough.

The need for skin on skin was steadily building, but Trevor was relentless. The brunette maintained a continual, throbbing thrust that worked its way inside his body until Adrian was writhing. He wanted relief from his fabric prison; he needed the heaven of the sculptor’s skin against his.

I always wondered what it would feel like, if he touched me without restraint. It is as consuming and blistering as I thought it would be. It was a descending skyfall that blanketed him in an endless sunset. It set fire to his flesh in a rainbow of color. It was fulfillment and uncertainty, a kiss upon the brow and an oath in a foreign language. It was belonging.

“Say it,” Trevor murmured in his ear, breath warm on his cheek. “Tell me you want me, you want this. Tell me you are mine.” He thrust again, dipping low between the painter’s thighs, brushing up against his trapped shaft as the sculptor ran his hand alongside the blonde’s narrow hips. Every touch, every full body press was seeping into Adrian’s flesh like a cement roller laying new road. What new roads are we making?  He wondered, what will I look like after this?  “You know it’s true and I want you to admit it,” Belmont coaxed.

I don’t even know what I am admitting to! The blonde thought with frustration. I don’t know what point you are trying to make! But it didn’t even seem to matter, his body had already answered for him. “I am,” the blonde whispered, something coiling inside of him, some rising, pulsing creature unfurling its wings under his ribs. What is he doing to me? What does this mean?

“You are…?” Trevor persisted, pushing his collar further down and setting his teeth on a taut tendon. He bit down and Adrian gasped. It danced on the edge of pain, bright, screaming and filling his brain with careening pinwheels. Certainty dropped into the heart of the storm. He’s marking me, leaving a physical indicator of his possession.

“I am yours,” he sobbed out, undone by the purposeful claiming, unaware of how much emotion lay behind those words. That winged creature under his ribs spread its limbs and smiled. He was free falling into that mouth, filling the sharp teeth with his surrender, bliss running down Trevor’s throat and filling his belly with everything he had to give.

Trevor groaned into his throat, deeply pleased and hungry. “Say it again. You belong to me.” He bit, higher towards the throat, and just as hard. Adrian gasped. The pleasure and sensation of being obtained was heady and overwhelming.

“I am yours Trevor, I am. You are the only man I want. Please, touch me, just—” the painter was abruptly released, his arms falling as Belmont yanked his hips backward. Adrian braced against the door and the sculptor snaked his hands around the blonde’s front; deftly unsnapping his slacks and dipping his hand inside them. Hot, calloused fingertips cupped his shaft. Adrian broke, curling his fingernails into the wood of the door and rocking with abandon into that blissful grip and against the promise in Trevor’s cock. “Oh my God, we can’t here, I can't-I-I will. Fuck me, Trevor, please, please —”

“You are mine.” Belmont crooned into his ear sweetly as Adrian fucked his hand. “None of this bullshit façade, fucking friendship pretense. No questions, no doubts. I can’t stand it; I won’t.”

Alarm blossomed in the midst of ecstasy. There is no other choice, Adrian thought. I told you this. I thought you understood. It’s not how I want it to be, but how it has to be. “Trevor, I can’t promise—” the painter began, an anxious edge of concern, and the sculptor interrupted him.

“Don’t.” Stroke.

I don’t want to lie to you, the blonde thought, even as his mind sunk right back into that glorious grip.

Stroke. “Belong to me, here and now,” the brunette growled. His words were underscored with emotion. Stroke. “Stay.”

Does he think I want to leave? Does he think that I even could? There is no loving another man like this; there is no other need like this! His love blossomed out like tea steeping into the waters of his desire. When Tepes spoke, it was with such devotion that Trevor was stunned by it. Humbled by it. Swayed.

“I will never leave you. I want you. I need you. More than you know.” He reached back, and stroked his fingertips over the side of the sculptor’s lower back, the fabric hot and soft. Trevor’s breath caught and his hand on Adrian’s cock stilled. “There is no question for me." Adrian told him. "I am yours. Whatever you need that to be; I want to give it to you. I am yours.”

“Adrian,” Belmont murmured against his hair and eased back. The comforting, exciting, forbidden weight was lifted and for a moment the painter was actually sorry.

It’s better this way, he told himself, if he’s calmer, than he is rational. The storm inside his lover was abating and it would be alright. A little shudder went through him. What it had felt like to be caught inside this, and how much he had liked it? He could examine that later, when it was safer.

He was turned slowly and that’s when he realized his mistake. Anticipation slammed back into him with the force of the earth rushing up to meet a skydiver. Trevor wasn’t calmer and there was nothing rational in his face. The moment sharpened with vicious lucidity. The brunette’s eyes seemed to glow with a supernatural assurance, jaw set determinedly and the tiniest smirk playing on his lips. The smirk seemed to say, ‘I will take everything from you and you will love me for it.

That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Adrian’s heart said quietly, I already do and you can't take what I would give you without question.

“Whatever I need?” Belmont asked, eyes locked on Adrian.

The painter’s heart plummeted like a ripe apple falling from the tree. This is why you don’t promise without knowing what you are saying, he admonished himself. A harsh exhale. The flex of a jaw. Whatever was mine to give freely, the blonde thought, I would give to you.

“If I can give it; I will,” Adrian said, and he meant it. Even the things you might not want, he thought, like this love that would devastate everything in everyone’s lives.

“Look in the mirror,” Trevor said and pointed to the sink. He stepped out of the way for Adrian, who blinked and jerked his head towards the sculptor.

And see what? he wondered, confused and a little afraid. “Why?” the blonde asked, and moved to slip his cock down into the confines of his clothes and close his slacks.

“Don’t,” Belmont snapped. “Just look. Tell me, what do you see?”

Apprehensive dread spilling over his lust, Adrian shifted uneasily. Trevor slipped to the side and glided up behind him. A firm hand on his back propelled him forward and Tepes’ hands flung out to grasp the sides of the sink. “What—” he began, when Trevor’s hands snaked around his front and pulled him tight once more. With one to his throat and one to his cock, the sculptor resumed his wicked, grinding movements on his ass and rhythmic strokes. Trapped between the sink and his lover, Adrian struggled to stay calm.

I can’t hold out against this, he thought frantically. I can’t hold out against him. He fervently worked to keep his gasping moans hushed.

“I’m still waiting,” Belmont drawled, “Tell me what you see.”

Adrian couldn’t look beyond the gorgeously erotic splay of skillful hand on his welted throat and the contrast of tan tendons flexing against pinked, rigid cock. It was unbearably vulnerable and scorchingly erotic. Adrian’s lust escalated with an eagerness that left him reeling. Trevor held him, a darkly possessive phantom that hovered over his shoulder and murmured into his ear, “Look at you, you are so beautiful.”

Adrian couldn’t look. There was something terrifying about this. In an unfocused blur, he could see the man Trevor was telling him to look at; a panting and shuddering form in the corner of his eye. That man was lost to reality, lost to responsibility, lost to everything and everyone but what was happening here. He gripped the sink and closed his eyes. The darkness offered him no escape, as the lust clawed and writhed inside of him.

“Adrian, look at yourself.” Trevor said, tempting, demanding, unrelenting. “Look at what we are together.”

“I can’t,” the painter said with a desperate, pleading whisper. “It’s too much.” There was a sharp pull on his hair and suddenly that mouth was there; a piercing, feral bite that seemed to take a bloody taste of his heart. Tepes’ eyes flew open.

Unbidden, his stare met the drowning honey gaze in the mirror; those wide, frantic eyes and he was caught.

Look at me, he thought in a daze, absorbing every obscenely intricate detail. The flex of his belly, the heaving chest, the flickering agitation in his darting tongue, the pale, parted lips and pink flush on his cheeks. The hard, relentless movement of Trevor’s hand over his cock and his white-knuckled hold on the sink. There was something in his eyes that was blind to reason, running rampant like an unleashed, wild thing.

It's like I could be anyone, anything. It's like there is no one else in the world but us.

Trevor released his bite. “Magnificent. Seductive. Mine.” The brunette snapped the words like they were kindling, eyes on Adrian. When the blonde’s gaze found his, Belmont smiled, a knowing, keenly pleased beast showing its fangs.

Mine, lover,” the sculptor rasped. “Mine to care for, mine to pleasure, mine to hold, mine to worship. You know it.” He pressed his hand to Adrian’s throat, “And I know it. No pretending. No avoiding. Mine.

The blonde's climax was cresting; a huge, overwhelming force that was crushing him just as surely as Trevor’s words were. “I’m going to—” he gasped out. Belmont was already turning him, falling to his knees. Adrian was devoured by that wet, hot divinity and felt the scrap of teeth that had collected his surrender in tiny stinging points of conviction. He covered his own mouth to muffle his strangled shout, unable to look away.

Eyes on his, Trevor reached up and pulled the blonde’s hand down. The painter’s whimper only seemed to urge the sculptor on. Their gazes were locked on each other, the honesty and need as forceful as a wind tunnel between them.

When his lover pressed two questing fingers into the valley of Tepes’ ass, the painter exploded into Trevor’s mouth. With a half-hissed, exultant groan of his lover’s name, Adrian rocked into him and fell back against the sink.

Trevor fisted his hand into Adrian’s hip and kept going. The sculptor dipped a fingertip inside of him and rotated gently. “Oh fuck, Trevor, it’s too much, it’s too—ohhhh my God,” as he spasmed shamelessly into Belmont’s mouth. This was pleasure so immense it toppled pain. This was agony so sublime it tumbled into the void of desire. “Yes. Yes. Yours. Yours." His mind was imploding, burrowing for any way to communicate this. " Mă distrugi.*The Romanian just spilled out.

Trevor rumbled affirmation in the depths of his chest and his fingers thrust shallowly into the painter. Tepes was Icarus too close to the sun; glorious, terrified, found, and suddenly falling. The painter finally broke the shared gaze, his head dropping back, blonde hair tumbling down, hips thrusting shamelessly as he clung to sanity.

I love you, he thought and found another way to say it. “Te iubesc; sunt al tău*,*” he mouthed, barely a sigh, barely a sound.

---

“So, inevitably I had to tell her that I was flattered but not interested,” Saint delicately coughed. “I would rather have fucked her husband.” He smiled faintly. “Which, actually, I did do, later that evening.”

Sypha cackled with genuine pleasure. “That is fantastic, holy shit! Good for you; that’s how you do it!”

“Thank you,” Saint arched a brow. “I like to think it was poetic justice.”

“The best kind,” Sypha agreed and smiled.

Saint looked up and offered a smile of welcome. “Ah! Mr. Belmont!” Sypha turned and looked up, opening her mouth to greet him. His hand gripped the back of her head with firm proprietorship and he fit his lips to hers for a quick, hard kiss. He caught her off guard and was practically vibrating with emotion. When his tongue darted in, she tasted Adrian and her eyes flew open.

What had happened? She wondered with growing unease. Tepes would never risk sex in Lindenfeld’s. It was too exposed, too dicey. Trevor’s eyes were banked possession and the embers of a fury so hot she could feel it on her skin. Not now, they seemed to say to her and she swallowed hard. “I missed you too,” she managed and Saint Germaine chuckled.

“I would take a welcome back kiss too, if you were so inclined,” the man said drily. The digital artist could see her lover visibly work for calm in his eyes. What had happened?! She wondered with real alarm. And where was Adrian?

“I’m afraid I tend to be a touch covetous,” Trevor said and Sypha blinked. Covetous? Who are you? she wondered and resisted a snicker. It was like Adrian had stepped out of his mouth for a moment. “I only kiss my lovers like that.”

His control was completely in place when he stepped around her chair to Saint’s. He bowed slightly and with stunning grace. Where did he learn to do that? Sypha wondered with surprise. He took the man’s hand and kissed the top of it with gallant aplomb. “Hopefully this will at tide you over.”

Saint’s grin was sweetly shocked and it was charming to see him slightly flustered. “And they say chivalry is dead.” He fanned himself with delicate exaggeration. “My thanks Belmont, I suddenly feel nineteen again.”

“And you don’t look a day over twenty-five,” came Adrian’s quiet quip. Sypha whipped around and took him in. There was a faint blush on his cheeks and he approached her with his eyes just over her shoulder. It took her a moment but she realized that his collar was done up, all the way to the top. She only noticed because he never wore his shirts like that. His hair was slightly mussed and draped over his shoulders, not tucked behind his ears and tossed back.

“Oh,” Saint fluttered, “Bless you! I just might have to kiss you!”

There was a low, threatening noise from Trevor that made her eyes flare wide. It was effectively lost in the sudden and abruptly loud exclamation from Adrian as he laughed, a little strained. “Trust me, my compliments are more exciting, Saint.” He turned to Sypha and smiled but she could see that his defenses were fully engaged, eyes painfully neutral. “Any luck with boots for Trevor?”

Play along and get the fuck out of here, Sypha thought with concern. Something was wrong and the two men needed privacy to resolve it. Part of her wanted to scream in frustration. Would it never be simple? Could they never just be happy?

“Oh yes!” Saint said with real joy. “I found some things in the Infinite Corridor and I have—”

“My belt! Shit, I’ll be right back; sorry.” Trevor turned to go, but Saint stood.

“You found a belt in the Corridor?” Germaine asked and the sculptor nodded. “Excellent, well let’s just go there then. I made a small pile by the mirror for you.”

Trevor smiled, slow and easy and offered his arm to Saint. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” Saint batted his eyelashes and sashayed over to the younger man.

“So gallant,” he murmured and took it. The two men started down the aisle together. Sypha stood and Adrian put a hand on her shoulder. When she turned and looked up at him, she could see his eyes were still guarded.

“It’s alright. We are alright. I am just—" He tucked his hair behind his ears and she saw it. Angry red and purple with indented teeth marks peeked out from the collar of his shirt. It looked fresh and painful.

Jesus,” Sypha hissed unhappily. What the fuck Trevor! “That’s a fucking bite.” Adrian flushed bright red and quickly untucked his hair. She didn't miss the tremble of his lips and regretted her outburst. Fuck, I didn't mean to shame him!

“Wait!" she said urgently. "I mean, it’s whatever, as long as you are okay with it. I don’t like biting like that, but so what? It doesn’t mean you can’t.” She took a breath, “I’m sorry, I'm not judging I promise. It just surprised me. It looks like it hurts.”

For a moment, just a glimpse, Sypha saw his confusion, his love and his awe. “It aches but it’s…comforting. I want to talk to you about it later. I don’t know, exactly, what just happened, but I think,” he swallowed, “I think Trevor might… I mean, he is very protective. It’s sexy, but it’s also—I love him. It makes me happy, that he feels like that.”

The worry and concern untangled inside of the redhead. It made sense, sort of. They’d had an argument, made up and now were being careful about—“Wait, why was he protective?” Adrian’s face changed and he firmed his lips.

“Agent Isaac was here and no, we cannot talk about it right now. I won’t risk anyone overhea—oh fuck, I can't believe I forgot! I have to call my father right now.
---

You don't want to hurt me
But see how deep the bullet lies
Unaware I'm tearing you asunder
Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?...
…Oh come on, baby
Oh come on, darling
Let me steal this moment from you now
Oh come on, angel
Come on, come on, darling
Let's exchange the experience
It's you and me
It's you and me, won't be unhappy

-"Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)," Kate Bush

Notes:

Mă distrugi- You’re destroying me.
Te iubesc; sunt al tău-I love you; I am yours
---
Apologies to Kate Bush fans, I reversed the stanza orders in my quote to suit my purposes here. Also, there is an INCREDIBLE cover of this song by Meg Myers. I think of Kate Bush's version as Adrian's voice; Meg's version would be Trevor's. If I ever wrote a sequel to this fic, I would use modern 80's covers and this would ride shotgun on that whole list.
---
Stay tuned for some thigh high boot goodness!
---
Adrian photograph from the wonderful Alexander Krivitskiy (Pexals), Trevor model is Daniel Di Tomasso. 'Painting' photo from Pok Rie (Pexals).
---
'It Started Out Badly' Playlist is now on Spotify!

Chapter 29: He wants me, if he can keep me in line

Summary:

“Boots like Mr. Tepes? Of course, I beg your pardon!” Pleased that he wouldn’t have to attire this wonderful specimen in frankly lackluster ankle boots, Saint dropped the box unceremoniously. “Were you looking for black leather? A heel? Mr. Tepes tends to wear knee-highs…?”

Belmont smirked and Saint accepted that the flutter in his heart had melted into a full-throated pounding. Trevor's smile was lethal. “I was thinking, you know, ‘baise moi’ boots,” the brunette said. It took Saint a good moment to understand and when he did, he couldn’t help his pleased smile. ‘Fuck me’ boots, now that was something he would be very happy to sell Belmont, he reflected.

Notes:

Jan 14 It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Saint knew who Trevor Belmont was of course. The young man had immediately reminded him of someone the moment he’d entered the boutique but it had taken him a while to place Belmont. When Miss Belnades had mentioned his last name, it had clicked.

Germaine made it a point to know a little bit of everything and he had an excellent memory. As someone who adored art and relied on a network of contacts to make his business successful, he’d brushed up against the Belmont International Gallery more than once. Furthermore, Dominic Belmont had been a stunning man and Saint always looked twice at a good looking man.

Trevor looked like him; same solid build and richly dark hair. Young Belmont was less refined and rougher than Dominic had been, but that just added extra spice as far as Saint was concerned. The man’s piercing blue eyes and that captivating, warm charm though? That was all his mother, Penelope. 

Saint suppressed a sigh. He’d liked the Belmonts quite a bit. He certainly hadn’t been intimately acquainted with them but had dealt with them a number of times and considered them friends. He'd known about Trevor but never met him.

It had shocked him when the scandal broke. He thought himself an excellent judge of character and the Belmonts had seemed honorable to the ground. There had never been anyone prosecuted for their deaths and the forgeries that they’d created were still out there, although as far as he could recall, only a handful had ever been confirmed. Normally scandal was just delicious broth but this one had saddened him.

Why the Belmonts had done forgeries when it was clearly such a tiny element of their business, but held such risk, had always bothered him. As a business owner Saint knew one bad sale, one whiff of fraud and you could lose everything. It certainly cost them everything in the end. It puzzled him then and it baffled him now. I suppose we shall never know, he thought sadly and gazed at their son.

He was a looker, and if Saint was thirty years younger, he would give Ms. Belnades an elbow aside. For that matter, if he’d been of a different mind, he might have booted young Belmont out of the way to get to her. The girl was charming, and if Saint was so inclined, certainly his type—bold, intelligent and kind. She had a singular eye for fashion and a fabulous sense of humor. Unlike many women who were as attractive as she was, she wasn’t vain. Saint preferred to be the vain one in a relationship, thank you very much.

Together, Belmont and Ms. Belnades were a striking couple and judging by that kiss, very much in love. His romantic heart fluttered. Young love was always so dreamy and passionate. Ah well, he needed to focus on the task at hand. He bent down and opened the box, presenting the contents to Trevor. “These would be your staple wardrobe boots. They combine a flexible and re-solable Blake stitch construction with premium calfskin uppers and—” Belmont’s mouth was quirking and Saint paused. “I take it this was not what you had in mind?”

Trevor looked down at the boots he was wearing and Saint did his best not to cluck sadly. Truthfully, if he’d been permitted, he would give this man a makeover. Belmont should be wearing Givenchy or perhaps Dior. A sleek suit with a crisp, open throated blouse, perhaps a silver chain with a cross, since he seemed to have an affinity for them. At a minimum at least Calvin Klein slacks and a blazer. Not, the business owner squinted at the faded label on boots that should be in the garbage, Merrill? What was that anyway? Such a travesty!

“I was thinking something more like what Adrian wears,” Trevor said, flashing that gorgeous smile.

Saint felt his heart flutter again. Careful now, you know better than to fall in love, he told himself. That’s just foolish. Unfortunately, Saint knew he was a bit of a foolish man. Count on a Tepes to bring him someone else to love. Adrian had introduced Germaine to Sypha in last year. It’d been all of ten minutes before Saint was ready to take her home and feed her cake while they watched fashion week together and gossiped about the royal families.

He already adored the Tepes family to pieces. He’d known Vlad through mutual acquaintances and they quickly became friends. When he’d met Lisa, Saint had known that they would last. The owner was fond of telling people that he’d seen them falling in love from a mile away. When they’d had Adrian, he had been happy for them but disappointed; after all he didn’t care for children.

One visit with the young family to drop off the Victorian pram and wish them well had changed his mind. The lovers were clearly blissful happy. The babe was beautiful and right from the start, incredibly reserved. Watchful with those unusual eyes, the boy seemed to see everything and remain above it all. Adrian had grown into an even more gorgeous, aloof and proud man.

Saint thought him too serious at times, after all, when you are young, beautiful and rich, you should be living it up. Adrian actually went out of his way to live a quiet life and Saint might have held that against him, except that kindness and tenderness made him a soft touch. I am weak for a good heart, he thought. He’d seen Adrian with his mother and father. There was no one more kind, loving or devoted to his parents than the Tepes heir.

Still, the family could be odd. Take this layaway business. Adrian refused to charge his purchases to his parents account, instead paying installments on items before taking them home. It was bizarre, especially given that Saint couldn’t fathom where else Adrian got his money but his parents. It’s not like he works for it, the man thought, so why the charade?

But some things you never asked a customer about, and certainly not one that was as loyal as Adrian Tepes. However he wanted to pay was his business, and he always paid, which of course was what Saint cared about. “Boots like Mr. Tepes? Of course, I beg your pardon!” Pleased that he wouldn’t have to attire this wonderful specimen in frankly lackluster ankle boots, Saint dropped the box unceremoniously. “Were you looking for black leather? A heel? Mr. Tepes tends to wear knee-highs…?”

Belmont smirked and Saint accepted that the flutter in his heart had melted into a full-throated pounding. Trevor's smile was lethal. “I was thinking, you know, ‘baise moi’ boots,” the brunette said.

It took Saint a good moment to understand and when he did, he couldn’t help his pleased smile. ‘Fuck me’ boots, now that was something he would be very happy to sell Belmont, he reflected.

“Mr. Belmont, I believe I have underestimated you,” Saint purred. Trevor laughed, an appreciative, warm sound. “Would you allow me to select some things for you?” the older man asked and Trevor smiled. Germaine consigned his heart to perdition.

Didn’t John Lennon say, ‘All you need is love?’ he pondered as he went down the stairs to the shoe area. Really, what could it hurt to love one more beautiful creature? He was so very charming after all.

---

Sypha watched Trevor charm Saint with a clever mix of flirting, honest observations and genuine pleasure in the owner’s company. Belmont could be completely endearing what he wanted to be, she knew from personal experience, but this was next level. She suddenly wondered when Trevor would have had the opportunity to act this nuanced ballet of manners and innuendos in the past.

I wonder if he would ever tell me, she thought.

She had looked up the scandal on one of the library computers. The redhead didn’t ever want him to see it in her search history. Sypha believed in knowing what she was up against and she needed to know exactly what the extent of the scandal was and the implications for the future. What she’d found broke her heart and made her angry.

Trevor was never expressly accused of anything but the things the FBI chose to say ‘no comment’ to, left a lot of open-ended questions. Left room for the casual observer to wonder about the rest of the family.

If you met him, you would know instantly that it’s all bullshit, she thought again, watching Trevor’s face. There simply wasn’t anyone she knew with more integrity. Why was Agent Isaac here? she wondered unhappily. What did he want and why won’t he leave Trevor alone? She watched Saint pull out the first boot and winced. She certainly understood where Saint got the idea, but that was yuppie to the ninth degree and not Trevor at all.

She could tell from the sculptor's face that he was going to correct the mistake and smiled. Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out. An email from a classmate on a group project distracted her from the ensuing conversation and then Trevor nuzzled her neck. “Whatcha doing?” he asked her, snaking a hand around her hip.

“Answering an email to an overly anxious classmate and getting felt up by my boyfriend,” Sypha answered him. He snickered and his hand snuck upwards.

“Technically I was snuggling, but I am happy to feel you up babe,” Trevor cupped her breast and she batted his hand, pressing the send button on the email.

“Save your energy lover, Saint is going to have you prancing any moment now and you’re gonna need it.” Sypha retorted drily. “If you get less than a three-inch-heel I will be shocked.”

“I can take it,” he grinned, “especially if it means I get sexed down.” Sypha rolled her eyes even as she giggled and his hand snuck back up.

Entirely too clever for your own good, she thought, even as her breath caught.

“Yeah, you can take it, but can you walk in it is the bigger quest—” Trevor was giving her a saucy grin and she raised a brow. Alright, what am I missing? She thought.

“Yeah, there was a time in my life not too long ago, where I wore heels fairly regularly for about five months,” Trevor snickered. “I’m sure it’s like riding a bicycle.” He nuzzled her again, and nipped at her neck. It was a touch too hard and she shied away. She kept her hand on him to maintain the connection, but shook her head.

“No, I don’t like the biting, remember? Sorry,” Sypha said, and meant it. She didn’t want to turn him away but she also didn’t want to be bruised. “I just want to remind you that I don’t want to be bitten too hard, please.” His face was confused for a moment and then a blush rose on his cheeks.

“Shit, I am really sorry, I did forget that,” he murmured apologetically, his hands dropping away.

No, don’t, I do want to be touched by you, she thought.

“I know,” her smile was understanding, “I’m not upset with you and I do want the snuggles, just no bruises please.”

She leaned in and kissed him, cupping his face. His fingertips were gentle on her hair and he sighed.

“I’m feeling…a touch possessive right now, I apologize,” he offered, quietly. Sypha nodded and burrowed into his arms.

“It's okay, really. Adrian told me Agent Isaac showed up.” Trevor stiffened. “That fucker. I don’t blame you. I would knee him in his—” Sypha broke off as Trevor’s mouth curled in a snarl.

“You would be able to!” he exploded quietly. “He won’t let me do anything. Motherfucking Julius was allowed to protect him! Me? I had to just take it, watch it happen and do nothing.

“What would you have done?” Sypha asked him soberly. What choice do you think there was, Trevor? she wondered.

“Honestly, Sypha? He put hands on Adrian. I was going to deck him but then Julius was right there, hand under his coat and I suddenly realized—” he raked his hand through his hair and prowled the length of the shelf with his hand, touching items at random. “I suddenly realized that I was powerless. I couldn’t do anything to stop this without making it worse for him. People were watching. Isaac could sue him for serious money or get shot or I could get… there were consequences that I’ve never had to live with for reacting in a way that seems very natural to me.”

“You didn’t realize just what it meant to be with him, did you?” She asked him. This is a huge blow, she thought with real sorrow. It never occurred to her that Trevor hadn’t understood just how famous Adrian was. How much of his life was lived behind doors and how that would extend to anyone with him. She'd understood it but she'd also had time to absorb it. It also suited her circumstances well.

“No, he told me but I just—,” he shrugged helplessly, “I didn’t really think about what that meant. I just wanted him and to hell with it all.”

You wanted him, but this is him, she thought ruefully. You just wanted to pretend it wasn’t.

Sypha went to him and covered the tapping fingers with her hand. Miserable blue eyes met hers and her heart bled for him. It isn’t fair, she thought, for any of us but especially for a man who had such pride and integrity. “I had time to, Trevor, you haven't. I understood what it meant and I should have warned you, but I thought you understood it. His fame? Being a Tepes? The pressure is enormous and you never are really alone when you are in public. Even being his friend isn't without it's exposures.”

“Fucking friends. That’s what we would be in public, forever?” The hand under hers fisted and he jerked. “So someone could hit on him, right in front of me and I would have to bite my tongue?”

“You want the good news or the bad on that front?” Sypha asked him and he gave her a pained look.

“There’s good news?” he asked her with an unhappy sigh.

“Adrian gets linked to women all the time in the tabloids. Literally every single one of them is false. You know this, personally, now.” Trevor’s small smirk was a relief but that stubborn glint worried her. “There was even a small article on me when we started hanging out. His publicist released a statement that we were just classmates.” She smiled ruefully, “Ironic, don’t you think?”

Trevor hissed; smile gone. “Sypha, I don’t know if I can do this.” He spread his hands. “I live very honestly.”

Excuse me, what? she thought. Why does this make us liars? She narrowed her eyes. “Being private isn’t dishonest. It’s a shield for our right to live without interference. Adrian is on the phone right now with his publicist, protecting what he loves.”

“I understand protection, Sypha. Hiding what we are to each other?” Trevor shook his head. “That isn’t protective, it’s lying. You haven’t thought about what this would really mean, to have to deny—.”

Sypha felt her temper rise. “Of course, I’ve thought about it! I just know that he is worth any sacrifice I have to—.”

There was a movement on the stairs and they both turned. Adrian stood there, a pale, golden figure, remote and delicate on the top step. He was looking at them, his face unreadable. Shit, Sypha thought, how much did he…

“Why are you discussing this in public?” the blonde asked softly. There was a tense edge to his voice.

Damn it, she thought and exhaled.

Trevor lowered his voice when he spoke, but there was an answering bite to it. “Because it needs to be resolved? Because it came up?” He gestured in a tight sweep. “We are alone up here and—”

Don’t, she thought, Adrian is right! She struggled to keep her temper and her mouth both locked down.

“I could hear you halfway up the stairs, but you didn’t hear me until the top,” Adrian said, clearly trying to be reasonable. “All I am saying is that perhaps we could keep this tucked away for the vehicle?”

“And all I am saying is that perhaps this is insane and I need a minute to—” Trevor hissed back and Adrian turned and looked down the stairs.

“Ah! Saint!” His voice was pleasant and inviting. “What did you uncover this time?”

Sypha watched Trevor’s face burn with fury. He gripped air in two open claws before fisting them down into his thighs and turning to stalk to the window. Sypha took a step forward and then stilled. Give him his space, she thought. She didn’t agree with him and he knew it. Best to just give him a minute.

---

Something was going on. Saint was nobody’s fool and he lived for drama. He had heard Adrian asking Belmont and Belnades to stop discussing something. That in itself wasn’t an issue but the blonde's body language when he had asked was very interesting. Whatever they’d been discussing had upset the Tepes heir. He’d only seen Adrian unnerved a handful of times and could tell immediately.

It was funny really. It was because the man was reserved and cool that his tells were obvious when they happened. It was always his hands; clenching, toying, playing, or in this case, fisted in his pockets.

The tension in the air when Germaine had climbed the stairs to the Infinite Corridor was as thick as a wool blanket and just as itchy. It had lain heavy between his shoulder blades and scratched against his skin. When Adrian stepped aside to let him and his assistant through with the boxes, the blonde murmured a polite excuse and disappeared down the stairs. It had been exceedingly disappointing as Germaine was hoping to have his expert opinion on a pair of exquisite Victorian-style black leather thigh-highs that he’d come across only a month prior.

There weren't many men he would have thought might be able to pull them off, but Trevor was leggy and frankly, just sassy enough. He had hoped that Belmont wasn’t so angry by whatever was going on that he would be offended if Saint had chosen wrong. If anything screamed ‘fuck me boots,’ though, it was those, he thought again with a grin.

The look on Belmont’s face when they’d gotten to that box had been amusement, admiration and relish but Miss Belnades' face had been particularly gratifying. “Those,” she’d whispered, voice throaty. Saint had murmured an agreement and Trevor had accepted the gold zebra striped Chanel shorts he would need to wear to try them on without hesitation.

And stripped without hesitation, Germaine remembered.

Propriety had dictated that he give Belmont his privacy but Saint might have taken his time turning around. The owner fanned himself just remembering. Trevor was all rippling muscle and easy strength, just like a classic movie star.

A real one, he thought happily, not those pretty faces with plastic abdomens that Hollywood churned out like disappointing party favors these days.

It’d been Germaine’s sincere and genuine pleasure to smooth the leather up and over those fabulous thighs, the red interior disappearing as he tightened the laces. Trevor even let him tie the top in a bow, inches from a very tantalizing bulge. Frankly, that had been the thrill of Saint’s whole damned month. There really was nothing like a solidly corded thigh, brushed with hair and sun-kissed flesh that was wrapped up in leather. He sighed longingly.

When Belmont stood up, tiny shorts barely covering his ass, the amazing package that Saint was doing his best not to mewl over cupped lovingly in black and gold leather and those outrageously long legs encased in gleaming black, the owner thanked God that he had cameras in the store because he would be keeping this footage.

The brunette sauntered over to Sypha and shook his ass in her face with what could only be termed talent. Saint was pleased that his assistant’s gasp covered his own. The man could move and the store owner never would have guessed. Trevor had obviously spent some time in heels before. Still, when Ms. Belnades had smacked his ass with a half-glazed stare and a jaw-drop that had taken a good fifteen seconds to snap shut, Saint had to hide his moan with a cough. 

Germaine had to actively resist making it rain in that moment. The owner had been in the middle of thinking Sypha was the luckiest woman in the world when the wheeze from the stairs had made him turn.

It was always the hands, he reflected as he looped the security feed back. Mr. Tepes’ hands gave him away every time.

The blonde’s fisted hands had been practically crushing the newel post, lips parted and eyes wide as he looked at Trevor. Adrian was very, very good at hiding his emotions, but in that moment he was an open book. Saint had suddenly wondered exactly what was the nature of the relationship Belmont and Tepes shared. There was nothing 'friendly' in that needy, possessive stare.

It was enough of a clue, Germaine thought, and then there was the fistfight at the till over the boots.

He frowned. That was a bit unseemly, frankly, he thought again. They had argued about who would pay for the boots and shorts and Trevor had actually jerked on the blonde’s hair at one point. Part of Germaine was fascinated to see Adrian so furious, and part of him had started to be concerned about the possibility of having a brawl in his shop.

It had ended with a hissed exchange between the two men several paces away from the till. Germaine had desperately wanted to eavesdrop but Ms. Belnades had kept him busy by asking him about his upcoming travel plans. It seemed that Tepes had won because he paid. There was something about Belmont’s smirk and the fact he murmured, “punishment indeed,” when he collected the box made him wonder exactly how Tepes had won. If Tepes had won.

At least they didn’t fight over the belt, he thought. Although it was a hint unto itself, wasn’t it? It certainly fit into the ‘punishment’ aspect. I mean what conclusion could one draw from the facts? he reflected.

Belmont could wear heels like a pro and selected a belt that was made out of BDSM gear. And he was built like a warrior, seemed absurdly strong and was obviously dominant as hell. I knew that loving him made sense, Saint Germaine thought as his life-long submissively bottom heart yearned.

It almost makes me proud of Adrian, Saint thought as he typed in the approximate time he thought the trio arrived. He started to fast forward, noting with interest Trevor’s abrupt race down the stairs. Well, you don’t know that for certain, maybe Adrian just wants hi… Saint watched the high speed movement of Belmont moving in a straight line from the door to the bathroom and Sypha talking to Adrian before the blonde followed him. 

The minutes ticked by and no one emerged from the bathroom. In another angle, he can see Ms. Belnades and himself chatting happily over the three items Mr. Tepes had in layaway. A smile crept over Saint’s face.

Oh dearest Adrian, I didn’t think you had it in you, he thought and felt real pride even as he chuckled. Literally. And in public no less! Saint almost wanted to hang a sign up on the bathroom door. If there was anyone worth throwing your reservations out the window for, it would be young Belmont.

Finally, Trevor emerged and closed the door behind him. Saint paused the video and looked at the man. Saint nodded at what he saw in Belmont's face. Excellent. He picked up the phone and paused, gazing at the frozen frame of the man before he dialed the number by heart.

---

I try so hard not to get upset
Because I know all the trouble I'll get
Oh, he tells me tears are something to hide
And something to fear
And I try so hard to keep it inside
So no one can hear
Hush hush, keep it down now, voices carry
He wants me, but only part of the time
He wants me, if he can keep me in line
-"Voices Carry," Til Tuesday

Notes:

Trevor: Boots for my lovers please
Saint: Take me home Daddy 😫
--
Big thank you to armouredescort for helping me work through the best boots for Trevor. You are brilliant!
--
Trio models: Adrian-Erik Andersson, Sypha-Angelina Michelle, Trevor-Sam Merrell. Boots photo Azalea Wang.
--
I really wanted "Sharp Dressed Man" for this chapter but Trevor wasn't feeling it. Maybe when he actually gets to wear them around... <3

Chapter 30: Heartache to heartache

Summary:

“Gossip dies at some point, Adrian. Do I still encounter the Belmont bullshit? For sure, but—” The blonde shook his head gently and the sculptor fell silent.

The painter continued. “Tell me Trevor, have you Googled me recently?” He withdrew his phone from his pocket. Suddenly wary, Trevor slowly moved his head to indicate the negative. “Have you looked yourself up?” Oh fuck, the sculptor thought, whatever this is cannot be good.

Notes:

30-Jan 17-ISOB

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Trevor knew what was coming but didn’t want to discuss it. It was too close to home for him and he was raw from it. I don’t know what came over me, he thought. I bit him, bruised him, I-I completely lost it. Oh bullshit, you know exactly what came over you; don’t fucking lie.

The sculptor considered himself a simple man. Sure, there was some sorting to do in the boxes of his heart, and the attic of his mind could use a good spring cleaning, but overall, his needs and his emotions weren’t complicated. Take love for example. He loved two people in his life. Yes, they were different, and yes, the way he expressed and felt love for each of them was distinctly separate, but the basic aspects of loving them were the same.

Protect, provide, nurture, adore. Really simplistic stuff, right? Apparently not, he thought sourly as Adrian and Sypha discussed drive through versus restaurant. He’d said he didn’t care and he’d meant it. Really, he just wanted to be quiet for a moment and give himself a chance to finally unwind. Fortunately, they were content to leave him to his silence.

To my brooding, really, he thought, because there is nothing I can do about this situation and I refuse to regret what I did. Especially because Adrian liked it. There was no denying Adrian’s intense response and glittering surrender to being possessed and marked by the sculptor. It had awakened a fanged beast waiting in the dark and Trevor wasn’t sure he could lull it back to sleep. It’d been an overwhelming need to claim and imprint himself on Adrian.

I’m not sure I want to close off that part of myself with him anyway, he reflected and remembered the foreign words the painter had gasped out. He wanted to ask what they were and had forgotten. Belmont suppressed a groan and shifted. Best not to think about all of that right now.

The hold between the men had never seemed so tenuous as it had on the steps of Lindenfeld’s. Watching Julius defend and care for the man he loved; unable to even speak lest he make it worse. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that? he thought unhappily.

He’d had to shut up and pray that Isaac wouldn’t do any further damage with all that bullshit about the Belmonts and the Tepes. As if Adrian needs one more reason to question why I am with him, Trevor thought, fisting his hands.

Staying silent while Isaac once again brought his world down around him went against every instinct Trevor had and he had hated it. So much for protecting, the brunette thought, looking at the soft smile playing on the painter’s mouth as Sypha told him French fries didn’t count as lunch. It was an old argument between them and even the sculptor felt his mouth quirk.

Sypha reached out and touched the painter’s lips with an exasperated grin and Trevor’s heart clenched. He’d never been in this position before, where he had to hide his love. He couldn’t touch, couldn’t claim, and couldn’t protect what was his.

Thank God I can with Sypha or I might not make it, he thought. Adrian is mine, dammit and I can tell no one. I can do nothing.

The impotent helplessness was nauseating and too close to the emotions regarding what happened with his parents. It twisted inside of him like a writhing snake, eating his pride, his heart, and his self-worth with venomous bites. I can’t protect, he fretted, and I already knew I couldn’t provide.

He’d somewhat come to terms with the fact that he would never financially support Adrian and by extension, Sypha. It wasn’t something that he absolutely had to do, but it was important to the sculptor that he contributed. But he couldn’t. There was simply was nothing he could provide that the man couldn’t simply buy for all of them with his fucking pocket change. Including my art, he worried again, pleasure and pain orbiting together.

The discovery of the blonde’s love for his art had made that simpler in a way. He had decided that he would simply give Adrian whatever artwork struck his fancy. Of course, if he wanted every single piece, I might have a problem, Trevor thought but brushed that aside. He couldn’t imagine that was possible.

Now I just have to explain Christopher Wise. That would be another painful conversation and given how tumultuous everything was right now, he just couldn’t see it ending well.

That left nurturing and adoration remaining; two things that Sypha did significantly better than he did. It came easier to her and more authentically. I’m not romantic, he reasoned, and I never have been. I am not soft and I am not giving. I demand, I challenge, I take. I love fiercely but it’s not ‘comfortable’ and it never would be. I’m just not built like that.

Belmont wasn’t good at restraint and tenderness. He always communicated his devotion better with his body and his actions than his words. He looked at the bruises on Adrian’s neck and winced. Whether the blonde liked them or not, no one could say that was romantic or comfortable.

Once again, he was left wondering why Adrian was with him and the brunette didn’t care for it. He could have anyone and being with me has brought him nothing but trouble, he thought bitterly. Does he wonder if it might be simpler; more gratifying to be with someone from his parent’s world? Does he regret how quickly this has all happened?

It was staggering, really, when you thought about how quickly they’d gone from strangers to friends to lovers. Adrian had welcomed him into his life with aching vulnerability.

That is just his way, he reflected. You’ve seen him with Sypha. Besides, you are his first lovers, he thought, trying to ignore how his heart snarled back ‘only’ to him. He invited you to live with him, come home to his family with him…

Yes, but he confused affection and lust for love before, remember?

Affection and lust are more than enough, more than you ever could have expected. It should have been enough.

It would have been enough for you before you loved him, Trevor mused.

Was there a before? It seemed the sculptor had been in love with the blonde forever now. There was no question for Belmont why he was with the painter. The love he had for Adrian was a rapidly expanding universe and it blotted out the sun. Twinned with Sypha, it was a galaxy of possibility.

Not knowing if it was reciprocated by the painter, whether Trevor would be allowed to keep the trio despite all his shortcomings left him terribly vulnerable. With every new issue, he felt another rung in the ladder fall away and that beautiful spiral of stars slip further into the blackness of space.

Was lust and affection enough? Would it tie the painter to him in ropes of love as securely as Trevor was chained to him? The doubt scooped out his serenity and flung it on the ground with the glee of a baby in a highchair.

If you would just take him like he wants you to, that fanged beast hissed and Belmont shoved it and the colossal yearning it summoned, aside.

He’d never meant to draw it out or leave his lover wanting, but he was afraid of it now. Trevor was terrified of how much more there was to feel, how much more of himself would be exposed in the taking, and if it would be the final thing Adrian needed from him before he let his troublesome lover go.

There was no question for him that Sypha would stay with Trevor, love him and support him. It was just her way. That would be the biggest reason he might survive such a thing. She would stay with Adrian too though, and there was no denying that the situation would split her cleanly. He could never ask her to do that. No. It would be better to let her stay with Adrian and Trevor would…

Stop! Don’t think like that! You aren’t giving up on anything without a fight! Be in the here and n—

“Trevor? That work for you?” Sypha asked him and he tuned back in. They had decided that the limo would stop at a local bistro and Sypha would run in to grab everything. If he hadn’t been so immersed in his own thoughts, he would have wondered why Julius couldn't have done the errand but that was lost on him.

“How hungry are you?” Adrian asked the brunette and Trevor shrugged. The sculptor was actually very hungry; he’d been nervous about the weekend so he skipped breakfast and this emotional tempest wasn't helping. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to spend any more money today so he would just have to suck it up. The belt, although he was immensely pleased with it, was an unexpected and costly expense. He needed to make up the difference.

Trevor touched the sculptural buckle absently and said, “I’m good; something small—just a banana or apple?”

Something inexpensive, he thought. Meanwhile, his casual stroke of the belt was like a neon sign to his lovers what the actual issue was.

“I’m really hungry myself,” Sypha said cheerfully. “I’ll just get an extra side of something added on for you then, cool?”

Trevor nodded and passed her his wallet. “I have cash in there, just use whatever you need for mine.”

Adrian looked thoughtful. “You know, sides reminded me that they make an incredible pasta salad here with olives, peppers and genoa.” Trevor did his best not to pout. Watching them eat genoa was going to hurt.

“Count me in on some too,” the blonde continued, “Instead of the tea. I think there is some bottled water in the fridge and I’d rather have the food.”

“I was going to get the pasta too! Should I just get a family size? It’s huge but we can just eat whatever we can. It would be like $2.50 each then, especially if we went three ways?” She looked at Trevor, “Pasta salad okay with you?”

Hell yeah, are you joking?! he thought but just grinned happily before nodding.

“Good stuff, alright, I will be back then,” the red head popped out of the idling limo and headed toward the door. She turned and trotted back quickly, tapping on Julius’ window to see if he needed anything. Trevor stopped watching their exchange when Adrian cleared his throat.

“I owe you an apology.” The blonde said with surprising firmness. Trevor blinked. “I made an assumption about your understanding of what my expectations were and I shouldn’t have done that.”

Something about the word ‘expectations’ set off alarm bells in Belmont. He worked for calm and simply gazed at the blonde.

It was the painter’s turn to blink. He obviously thought Trevor would say something and when he didn’t, Adrian gave a small flutter with his hands before continuing. “Yes, well, as I said, I am sorry.” He clutched his hands on the knee of his pants. “About the scene with Isaac. It was ugly and I know it was hard for you to see and I am sorry—”

“Do you know why it was hard to see?” Trevor said as neutrally as possible. This was exactly what he didn’t want to talk about but if they were going to, then he wanted to cut the bullshit.

“You have history with Isaac, I know. You didn’t like him touching me. It was very sweet and I appreci—” The blonde stared as Trevor felt his face undergo what was probably a hilarious mix of fury, incredulity and amusement.

“Sweet, mmm?” Trevor forced himself to stay still. He was amused but also angry. I would have fucked you on the sidewalk if you’d let me, the brunette thought. It would have been so cute, right?

“Tell me Adrian, exactly what part of what happened in the bathroom was sweet? Was it you begging me to fuck you as I left my teeth marks on you? Perhaps watching you fall apart under my hands in the mirror? Or the way you fucked my mouth when you came? Inquiring minds would like to know.”

The blonde flushed and swallowed hard. “Wel—I, um, I meant more like… thoughtful?”

Trevor’s mouth quirked. Oh there had been thoughts, but none of them could be termed particularly adorable.

“I can’t think when you look at me like that,” the blonde finally said and shifted slightly, brushing the crease on his pant leg.

“Like what?” Trevor said, enjoying the game. Adrian flustered was one of his favorite pastimes.

“Like you’d,” a hitched sigh as the blonde looked at the window and twisted his hands, “eat me alive. I—we—communication is important, you know.”

“I thought we communicated just fine in the bathroom.” Deliberately the brunette spread his legs. “I’m willing to repeat myself as many times as needed. For the sake of communication.”

When pale harvest moonlight met Trevor's eyes, Adrian distractedly cupped his own shoulder and pressed his thumb into the bite mark on the side of his neck. The feral creature of lust and possession within the sculptor stretched luxuriously and flexed its claws.

I’m a simple man, Trevor thought again, watching the slight flutter of the blonde’s eyelids as he pressed, and this adoration I can do.

“Tell you what Legs,” the brunette purred, patting his thigh. “Why don’t you come cuddle me, and I promise to listen attentively as you tell me your expectations. We can…” he licked his lips, “negotiate.”

Watching Tepes attempt to give him a repressive glare while trying to curb his obvious interest in the suggestion was entirely too endearing. The man was just so damn appealing.

“I am not sure that is a good idea,” Adrian said demurely. “We really do need to talk.”

Trevor inwardly groaned. He really didn’t want to talk about how he wasn’t allowed to touch or react in public. I am already fully aware and it is hard enough—

Adrian was looking at him and there was something on his face that Trevor couldn’t quite comprehend. It made him pause and consider exactly what that expression meant. There was determination but there was also—

“Tell you what,” the painter said calmly. “We talk about this for five minutes and then snuggle for five minutes. If we haven’t talked long enough by then, we repeat until we are both satisfied?”

“How satisfied?” Trevor asked cheekily. I can think of several different ways we could

Tepes sighed heavily, leaned back and crossed his arms and legs. “Never mind, I can see that your mind has taken backseat to what is currently in the driver’s seat right now.”

Trevor couldn’t help it, he grinned. “God, I love it when you go full duchess on me.”

I’m going to regret this, he thought but said it. “Alright, I promise to behave for five minutes in exchange for snuggles for five minutes after." I am sure I can distract you for longer once you are in my lap, he smirked, but wisely kept that to himself.

Adrian tucked his hair behind his ear and the tragus piercing teased Belmont. Why was it so sexy? Was it because it was unexpected? Or maybe because it was just—

“Do you know that the only reason I want to buy you things is because I want to take care of you?” The question was an unexpected branch in the path and whacked Trevor with a coniferous slap. It was too close to what he’d been thinking about in terms of providing only moments before.

“And how do I take care of you, Adrian?” he shot back defensively. “By watching someone else protect you? By pretending you mean nothing to me?”

“How do you want to take care of me?” the blonde asked him.

I want to love you without fear, Trevor thought immediately and bit it back. There was truth and then there was truth and neither of them were ready for that confession.

“I want—” Something I can’t have. I want the trio to be ours without question and I want a future without barriers, “to know that we don’t have to live afraid of discovery. That we can be genuine most of the time.”

Adrian’s smile was a pitiful, shattered thing. “More than you will ever know, I yearn for that too. I want to be able to hold your hand with Sypha’s in public. I want to go to your art showings and say, ‘Yep, my boyfriend is brilliant,’ without it being front page news. I want everything that means for the future.”

The blonde covered his face with his hand and sighed. It was such a tired, miserable little puff, like a lonely wind in an abandoned gully. Trevor’s anger simply broke clean.

How could he be angry knowing how sincerely Adrian meant that? Knowing he felt just as trapped as Trevor?

But he could make a choice to live candidly, to reprioritize— he started to think and stopped. Why? Because of you? You are his lover, not his beloved. It hurt to think, but Trevor knew it was trueWhy would he put you ahead of his family? You already knew where his loyalties were, yet you’d punish him for doing exactly what you expected. He gives you a great deal already, why do you need this?

But Trevor knew why. Just as he was helpless to stop loving Adrian, he was helpless to stop what that meant.

What is the solution then? You can’t force him to love you and publicly acknowledge you. He looked at the form of the man he would do anything for. And you aren’t willing to let him go.

“Could there be a compromise of sorts here?” Adrian asked, dropping his hand.

Compromise. Trevor tasted the word in his head and spread his hands.

The blonde leaned forward, face intent. “I know you don’t believe me; how bad the harassment could be if the trio became public. How much damage would be done.”

That’s not the case, Trevor thought defensively, it’s that I think facing it head on would be simpler, cleaner and less painful than

“Sypha and you are a couple. She is already publicly established as my best friend and no one looks twice at our association anymore.” Adrian looked at his hands. “You and I being seen publicly friendly will be more accepted once we’ve all been seen together in situations where you two are obviously a couple. It would make sense that I would be close with my—”

“It's not just the inability to touch you as my lover, you know.” Trevor was surprised he’d spoken but just rolled with it. “It’s knowing that Isaac could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you and I could do nothing because someone might see. That someone might speculate. So, I had to let someone else protect you.”

Adrian gave him a considering look. “The protectiveness goes both ways. I know what you went through with your parents was horrible and I never want you to go through that again. Because of me.”

It would be worth it though, if I could be with you free and clear at the end of it, Trevor thought.

“There would be no end to the speculation and the invasive hounding,” the blonde continued.

“Gossip dies at some point, Adrian. Do I still encounter the Belmont bullshit? For sure, but—” The blonde shook his head gently and the sculptor fell silent.

The painter continued. “Tell me Trevor, have you Googled me recently?” He withdrew his phone from his pocket. Suddenly wary, Trevor slowly moved his head to indicate the negative. “Have you looked yourself up?”

Oh fuck, the sculptor thought, whatever this is cannot be good.

Adrian’s long, slender fingers moved over the screen and then he passed the phone over to Trevor. It was an email from someone named Sala and cc’d to Vlad Tepes.

To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Date: Thursday 10:13 am
Subject: Trends- Belmont/Shaft

Good morning Gentlemen,

As discussed, the fall out from Shaft has been closely monitored by the agency and I am happy to report it is being contained. The emphasis has been on the destruction of property charges as requested.

Specifics on Master Alucard’s request: we have successfully obtained a gag order on the use of Trevor Belmont’s name for this incident. Soma was quite clever in this regard and once again, a true pleasure to work with. Neither Belmont, nor any of the other students, have been mentioned by name in the coverage. The school cooperated fully with this and is united with us in protecting the privacy of the students. 

In the meantime, the internet searches on Alucard have tripled, as expected, while searches for Vlad’s statement on the matter surged 700 percent since it’s release. Coverage of the statement and the story have appeared 113 times in American newscasts and 286 times… Trevor skipped through the statistics, his heart pounding in his chest. His eye caught on the next line.

The school confirmed two separate attempts at acquiring Alucard’s resume in the last 12 hours and we are aware of a piece underway regarding his promotion. Soma has also issued an updated NDA for the department’s review and believes that they will sign again. 

I would once again advise reconsideration of this association.

There was a Twitter trend suggesting that father and son might be estranged because Alucard is working. The agency suggests withholding a statement on this matter until at least 50,000 retweets before making a decision. At that time, you may wish to discuss quietly withdrawing Alucard from the workforce until such time as it is advisable to return.

“What the fuck,” Trevor hissed and glanced up at Adrian. The blonde was looking out the window, face carefully blank. His fingers were tangled together, knuckles white. The sharp points of white teeth worked over the edge of his lip in tiny scrapes, as though he could furrow a hiding spot into them.

The sculptor didn’t want to read more but he also didn’t want to walk into Vlad Tepes’ house without knowing what he was up against. This was a level of invasion he’d never fathomed and it suddenly occurred to him that his experience with the press might have been the tip of the iceberg. Which was utterly terrifying. He looked down again.

As I am sure you are aware, the Belmont scandal was international news. As of yet, only two papers have issued articles, (which they have retracted after Soma’s contact) speculating on the association of the Belmont son with the Tepes heir. I have enclosed them below for your perusal.

I am sure I do not have to stress to either of you the potential issues the Tepes family would face if the association was in any way substantiated or resumed. Any further suggestion of a connection, however tenuous, would have serious ramifications on multiple fronts.

My understanding is that this is the boyfriend of Sypha Belnades, whom I have previously indicated was a minor risk association on her own. This would raise her to a moderate risk but I understand that the family has personal reasons to maintain that relationship. If possible, you may consider approaching Ms. Belnades about severing this association. I leave the matter to you.

Regards,
Sala

He clicked on the newspaper articles that were attached and scanned the first one. He couldn’t make it past the second paragraph.

It always came back to what his parents had done and that was something Trevor couldn’t escape. There were huge raging sandstorms scraping under his skin but the grief was a steady downpour of exhaustion over him. Grief for the past and for the future that would never escape it. He carefully put the phone down and closed his eyes.

What will he do now? Trevor wondered. I’m sure that the scene with Isaac made this a hundred times worse. With bone-crunching terror he wondered if this ‘compromise’ wouldn’t be a soft goodbye.

What kind of compromise would good-bye be?

The best one for him, he told himself honestly.You are trouble and he knows it. This proves it. No, he already told you what his compromise was…

How can he live like this? the brunette agonized, the stress must be astounding.

“I have received these updates on my actions and my ‘trending impact’ since I was fourteen.” Adrian grimaced. “Nothing like knowing that your preference for black clothing might indicate an association with a gothic subculture you know nothing about.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Trevor shuddered. “Your clothes?!” Well, Salvation Army was about to get a major boost in advertising, he thought wryly.

Adrian met his eyes. The sorrow that simmered in his lover's gaze was ancient, twisted and pleading. It was a striking, sickening contrast to the exotic beauty of the painter. In that instant Belmont understood that the blonde thought Trevor would be the one to leave. Because of this. It cleanly stripped all his defenses and all his qualms.

You have no idea what I would endure to be with you, Trevor thought.

“I never want to ask you and Sypha to go through this.” Adrian held his gaze, the tiniest tremble of his chin. “I would protect you both from it, as much as I can. My parents chose this life and have done their best to mitigate its impact on me. You and Sypha don’t have to be subjected to this.”

Sending you these fucking reports? Trevor thought. Making you aware of every tiny scrutiny and judgement? That’s not mitigating shit, that’s cutting you off at the knees.

The painter’s gaze slid to the side as he continued. “You’ve seen me on campus; I live a relatively quiet existence.”

You mean you live in hiding, Trevor thought, a monsoon of understanding watering the tenderness sprouting. Inside the emerging garden of compassion, the possessive creature prowled.

“Every once in a while, some reporter tries to interview my neighbors," Adrian fidgeted, "or some student who doesn’t even know me, but I swear to you that—”

I can do adoration, Trevor thought and patted his knee. “The five minutes is way up; get over here.”

Adrian looked startled and then opened his mouth. Trevor rolled his eyes and switched seats, coming alongside the blonde. He hauled Tepes over his thighs without further discussion. “You promised,” he said reprovingly. Stroking soft hair and tense shoulders, the sculptor spoke again. “I am not going anywhere,” he said adamantly.

The painter sagged heavily into him and exhaled in a long whoosh. “I thought you might… I was afraid…” Tepes whispered and stopped speaking as he tucked his face into the side of Trevor’s neck.

“Not a chance. I will be honest with you. I don’t like it Adrian. In fact, I fucking hate it,” Trevor continued. “I can’t promise I can accept hiding forever, but I think you are right about compromises.” Adrian’s spine went rigid again.

I’m sorry lover, but I am not promising you something I can’t give. “I think we need to talk about this as a trio, and figure out how we are going to deal with it in the future.”

“Trevor, I told you, I cannot publicly acknowledge the trio without hurting my family and I won’t do that. I can’t.” The panic was back in his voice and it was a possessed chainsaw hacking away at everything in its path. Despite his empathy, Trevor felt the buzzing blade under his own skin.

I know you won’t and that is the part I need to come to terms with. I need time to know what I am willing to live with.

But he didn’t say that. Instead, as calmly as he could, Trevor said, “Like I said, I think we need to discuss this as a trio. You’ve given me a lot to think about and I am content with your plan in the meantime. Sypha and I can be a couple; you can be our friend. Besides, we’ll be mostly alone with your family this weekend, right?”

There was no answer for long enough that Trevor became aware that Adrian was holding his breath. “I want my father to meet you. I want him to see in you what I see in you,” the blonde finally whispered, complex notes of grief and concern played by an orchestra of despair in his voice. 

No,Trevor thought instantly, you said that they wouldn’t care, you said that—

“Sala has given him a bunch of information now.”

And we both know whatever is publicly available on the Belmont name is horrible, Trevor thought with a sinking feeling. He suddenly remembered the sarcastic narrative he’d given Isaac in the interview room. A great influence indeed.

Adrian drew back slowly. “I’ve never brought a lover home to them.” His pale hair fell down like an empathetic curtain, hiding him from the sculptor’s gaze.

“Because you’ve never had a lover before,” Trevor responded gruffly, the roots of emotion surging forward, thick and gnarled into his lungs. Love, possession, helplessness, grief, joy, fear—they were a riot of agony held within his breath and caught in the tightening constriction in his chest. He was trapped and he knew it.

“Yes, that is true, but…” the blonde sighed and tucked his hair behind his ears, slowly bringing his eyes up. “I never bring people home. Sypha was the first friend I brought home since I was a child. I’ve never brought a um, romantic interest, home.”

How can you want to lie about something so important? Belmont thought and absorbed the immediate slap of realization. Because it’s not as important as maintaining the approval of his family.

His heart was quieter, but no less insistent when it asked him, What if it was maintaining the love of his family? That made his heart weep. The more he heard about the Tepes’ the more he wondered if Adrian had any real understanding of what love was. Of what it could be.

I can give him this, if only for now, he thought and spoke. “As I said, I am Sypha’s boyfriend this weekend. That’s what you parents think anyway right?” His guts clenched with unhappiness, but time was the only thing that he could give them both right now.

“Yes,” Adrian said softly, voice filled with resignation. “That’s what my parents think.”

--- 

And when all this gets old
Will it still feel the same?
There's no way this will die
But if we get much closer
I could lose control
And if your heart surrenders
You'll need me to hold
We are young
Heartache to heartache
We stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield

-"Love Is A Battlefield," Pat Benetar

Notes:

The Tepes residence is FINALLY appearing in the next chapter (squees with the happy!) and can I just say, buckle the fuck up...
---
Photos: Adrian-Erik Andersson, Trevor-Corentin Huard. Pexals: clouds photographed by Eberhard Grossgasteiger and 'sculpture' photographed by Charles Parker.
---
A quick word about responding to comments: I've had some unexpected stuff come up in the last 48 hours and I am behind even more than I already was. Please don't think I don't appreciate and cherish each and every word you leave--I really, truly do! I will respond, just later than I might normally. My apologies! 💔

Chapter 31: The drum beats out of time

Summary:

The vast estate was nestled in the heart of the woods, the lake shimmering in the low-hanging sun and the mansion laid out like an antique doll house, trimmed in arches and turrets. She’d always thought of castles as being imposing, dank, creepy. Then she’d seen the Tepes home.

It was caught between a timelessness and contemporary space that spoke in hushed whispers to each other. There was something medieval about it’s imposing lines and clean strength but a touch of feminine charm in the arches and scrolling trim kept it from truly being a castle. Massive, immaculate and proud, it sprawled out over the landscape with riots of roses, lilacs, hedges and white lilies nodding like adoring crowds around it. She quite simply loved it.

Notes:

31-Jan 24-It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha understood what it meant to be with Adrian. Pressure was something that she was familiar with, although of course, not on such a scale. Being an international celebrity was not something she would ever understand, if she had her way. Privacy though, now there was something fundamentally ingrained in her for years now. It’d become a way of life: be as open as you can about what you can and keep the rest of it for yourself.

She was content to live her life in Adrian’s shadow and foolishly, so stupidly, she had assumed that Trevor would be too. After all, he’d been subjected to hounding, speculation and intense scrutiny with the deaths of his family. She couldn’t imagine having everything about your life rifled through like a raccoon had overturned a trash can rummaging for scraps. It was violating and it was disgusting.

Surely he could not want a return to that? she thought, as she stroked Trevor’s hair. I just can’t believe he would. That beautiful face was tired, anxious and unhappy. She stroked over the puckered scar, at least three days of scruff and another, smaller scar under his cheekbone. His lashes weren’t long but they were thick, tiny velvet shades shielding his eyes.

Even in sleep, his thick brown brows tensed. She smoothed back his hair and placed her thumb over the crease, rubbing gently. He murmured, the tiniest plea. She was pleased when he relaxed. No, this whole question of exposure could not make him happy.

Don’t do that, you have no business assuming anything about what he wants. You’ve made mistakes there with him, she thought, with rueful awareness, don’t repeat them. The digital artist felt the anguish splash onto her heart with acceptance.

It had all seemed so straightforward and simple in the beginning. Like an idiot, she had thought she understood the hearts of everyone involved. No, not an idiot, she told herself, remembering the mantra of her therapist. You are human, you make mistakes. Mistakes do not make you less worthy.

Sypha resisted the voice of her mother wiggling in there. Mary Sypha Belnades! Pride is a path to damnation… Wasn’t that why she’d gone to therapy in the first place?

Progress, not perfection, she reminded herself and took a cleansing breath. No, the truth was that she was trying too hard. You cannot force people to come to conclusions, they must reach it on their own, she thought. You should know this better than most. And Sypha did, she just needed the stability.

I want us to be happy, I want to know that everything we need is right here. She looked at the way Adrian curled into Trevor’s chest and the protective hand the sculptor had laced through the long blonde tresses and sighed. Adrian’s bruises were showing and she stared at the marks contemplatively.

She sat back in the limo seat opposite them and brooded. Lunch had been less strained but the spark of joy that was usually present between them had been missing. She suspected that Adrian had told Trevor that they couldn’t publicly be together but she didn’t know what agreement they’d reached on that. She knew that one or both of her lovers would fill her in at some point but there’d been such an obvious exhaustion in both of them. The nap had been an easier thing to propose then yet another conversation that would be emotionally draining.

It was harder than she had ever thought to let things take their natural course. Sypha is used to action, control and decision-making. After all, she’d run the household in her parents’ home since she was ten. Thanks to extensive therapy, she understood that her need for control and stability was directly related to forced maturity and unattainable expectations.

Still, it would be so much easier to just tell them both that they loved each other and get over all of this! Yes Sypha, breaking their trust, forcing your methods of conflict resolution and treating them like emotionally constipated children, she thought admonishingly, that would work perfectly to obtain the results you desperately want here. She sighed and drew her feet up under her.

Old habits die hard, it seems. She snorted gently. Trust love to make her question everything about herself. There had been so much going on with the two men that she has spent much of her time just listening and her own doubts and fears have been pushed to the side for too long. Pause, reflect, then react, she thought again, another mantra she’d encoded into her psyche supplying her the wisdom she craved.

The truth was that everything that they needed was right here. She just needed to be patient. She needed time; they all did. There was such love between them all but the friction of history, emotion and expectation was a constant assault on the love the two men shared. Once again, she was grateful that she had resolved all her own identity issues last year. I need to be present to both of them, she thought, I need to put them first in all of this.

Her eyes drifted to the bites again, half hidden in the shifting strands of hair that danced and glimmered like wind-swept wheat as the car moved. The bruises shocked her still and she couldn’t believe Trevor had done that. More to the point, she couldn’t believe Adrian liked it. But like it he had, she thought, remembering the wonder in his voice, that beautiful half-smile playing on his mouth.

The redhead winced, remembering Adrian’s flush and instinctive hiding of the marks when she’d seen them. Shame was something she never wanted to give her lovers—they’d been subjected to it enough. You know all too well shame kills the soul and destroys any hope of communication. “You fucked that up,” she muttered to herself forcefully.

She ran her hand over her face, feeling the faint stirrings of a headache. Drink water, she thought automatically and reached for the water bottle. What was it about the bites? She wondered idly, the faint purple like an insignia of possession on his flesh. Are you jealous? She examined that.

It was true that sometimes she felt awestruck by the fierce, all consuming love that seemed to arc between the two men. Her love with both of them was softer, easier, more… comfortable, the word came to her. Yes, exactly. It was stable and compassionate and giving. It was love that gave her great peace.

Adrian shifted, his knees curling a little more compactly, the hand on Trevor knees gripping a little more tightly and the press of his cheek into the brunette’s torso just a shade firmer. He looked anything but peaceful. Her heart ached like his bruises must.

No, she decided, I am not jealous. I am sad. This is not a love that is comfortable and perhaps it never will be. I don’t understand the biting and it’s the first part of either of them that I genuinely don’t understand at all. It makes me feel grief in a way, because it is something that I can’t give them.

Intellectually, Sypha knew it was alright that she couldn’t be everything to her lovers. No one can be everything to someone, she told herself. But that deep well of formative history that she had grown from left its mark in more ways than one. Accepting that truth in her heart was hard. Failing to support, deliver and express the love that was needed for the two that she adored more than anyone else in the world was a blow, even if it was in such a tiny way.

Do not see it as your own failing, she thought, working it through. See it as an essential part of the trio. They can give that to each other, be that for each other. The thought made her guilt ease. Remember Adrian? So concerned he could not give you what Trevor could? She reminded herself. You told him that Trevor could never be what your best friend is to you. It is true and it is alright! That is why you all need the trio—we are everything together!

Calm settled over her. It would be alright. They would figure this out together. There was such love here, even the pain and the grief spoke to that, she thought. You could not have such agony without colossal love behind it.

The limo made excellent time and Sypha was surprised when the vehicle slowed at the cast-iron gates. She looked up from her computer and looked out the window. At the gate you could see nothing but forest. The first time she’d been here it had confused her. For all you could tell, it was a private park.

Her lips curved. That was for the public to think of course. The Tepes’ valued their privacy and there would be no long-range camera shots to be had from any angle on their property. Apparently one time a low-flying helicopter had attempted such a thing in the eighties and somehow Vlad had managed to secure a no-fly zone for the first three thousand feet above his entire property. Considering it was 3.5 square miles outside of a major city center, that was simply incredible.

There would be no approaching from the water either. Vlad and Lisa owned the lake in its entirety. Occasionally there would be an article discussing the billions in lakefront property that sat undeveloped. The sheer expanse of wildlife that flourished because of it, meant that most of the public tended to simply view it as a sanctuary and appreciate it as such. Actually, that is how he got the no-fly zone too, she remembered.

The trees dappled the sunlight against the window of the car as the limo traveled the paved road inward. Several minutes passed and once the limo stopped for a doe and fawn that sauntered across, stopping to gaze with serene confidence at the shining, purring construct waiting ten feet away. Sypha rolled down her window and poked her head out.

The digital artist knew from her other visits that Lisa was firm on not scaring the wildlife and leaving them be as much as possible. It was lovely then, that there was no honking or inching forward—they simply waited. Sypha appreciated it and the soft eyes of the pair were nothing more than curious as they moseyed along.

Up ahead there was a break in the trees and Sypha risked keeping her window down to watch the gap close. They eased through the trees into the clearing. My second home, she thought, and knew it was true. She loved this place, and she loved the two people who called it home.

The vast estate was nestled in the heart of the woods, the lake shimmering in the low-hanging sun and the mansion laid out like an antique doll house, trimmed in arches and turrets. She’d always thought of castles as being imposing, dank, creepy. Then she’d seen the Tepes home.

It was caught between a timelessness and contemporary space that spoke in hushed whispers to each other. There was something medieval about it’s imposing lines and clean strength but a touch of feminine charm in the arches and scrolling trim kept it from truly being a castle. Massive, immaculate and proud, it sprawled out over the landscape with riots of roses, lilacs, hedges and white lilies nodding like adoring crowds around it. She quite simply loved it.

She looked over at Trevor, debating waking him to see it, and noted that he’d finally relaxed. He’d leaned more into Adrian and he held him less as though the blonde might escape but rather as though they were embracing. No, she thought, he’ll see it later. There were more important things than a great view.

By the time Julius had pulled through the second gate and under the porte-cochere, Sypha had stowed her items, put all the windows up and locked the doors. The moment the car stopped, she jumped out and shut the door. It locked behind her. She didn’t want to wake the men but she also wanted to ensure no one could open the door and see them.

Julius opened his door, and blinked when he saw her. “Ms. Belnades; my apologies I wasn’t fast enough to get the door for you,” he said.

Sypha gave him a blinding smile. “Nope, not at all! I am just super excited to be here. The boys are just taking a nap so I left them for now, but I expect they’ll be along shortly.” Julius’ face remained impassive. “Could you help me bring in our bags in the meantime though, please?” she finished and he smiled. Relief eased the slight tension in her belly. She had no reason to think he might argue with her about leaving the men alone, but his smile told her it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Of course. Why don’t you go ahead and I will put the bags in the foyer of Master Tepes wing?” the limo driver said and Sypha blinked. She’d forgotten because it was so rare for Adrian to insist on something, but his wing was not attended by any servants. The sole exception was Eva and her daughter Elise, but only for housekeeping and only when he was not in residence. Privacy, she thought again and prayed that Trevor would come around to it soon.

She smiled, nodded and headed up the stairs. Her knock was answered by a security officer that she recognized and he smiled at her. He murmured that it was a pleasure to see her again and she replied the same. When Sypha stepped inside she breathed deep. The house always smelled so beautiful. The beeswax the servants used, the quietly warm and sensual perfume of Lisa, Vlad’s cigars and rich musk, fresh flowers, old wood and contentment—it settled something in her and gave her a soothing stroke of peace.

She mostly knew her way around, having been here several times now. She was less familiar with the private quarters that housed Vlad and Lisa’s suites but she’d been invited to their space to see a collection of Adrian’s paintings the third time she’d visited. It was an entire wall in the sitting room and was utterly darling; a tiny gallery of child finger paintings, imaginative slashes of color and shape and the obvious, earnest efforts of someone who appreciated expression with both.

The one that had been the catalyst for the visit to their quarters had been completely endearing—a crayon art of a long, crooked man with dark hair and a cape, a blonde woman with huge eyelashes and a heart for a mouth and a tiny round blob with yellow hair, yellow eyes and impossibly long arms reaching out to circle both of them from the shelter of their bodies.

She had grinned at the large, determined letters of “A d R I A n” in the corner. Even at that age, he had been clear on his name. It had also been the last one that had the bold scrawl of Vlad, “Alucard, age 4” under the child’s careful lettering. Even his father had accepted it as a losing battle, she remembered thinking then, hiding her smile.

Still, the patriarch’s obvious pride and pleasure in the early family portrait had been so filled with love that she’d been a little envious. Her parents loved her but they would never be so easy with their adoration. On the other hand, she reminded herself, that ease of adoration was not without its expectations and its cost.

Shaking the memory off, she took the sweeping waterfall stairs, running her hands over the snarling dragons and twining roses carved into the marble bannister. When she came to the landing, she took the left set of stairs and continued up towards Adrian’s suites. She wanted a bathroom and then maybe a swim.

There was a maid she vaguely recognized at work in the hall, a temporary polishing station set up on a folding table. One of the glass cases was open and several silver pieces out on the table. The maid paused in her work, putting the intricate menorah down beside the polish and cloth and bowed to Sypha.

As always, it was disconcerting and she smiled uneasily. She looked idly at the polishing table as she went past and wondered again why silver was so damned popular throughout the ages when it required constant work. Each piece was probably some family heirloom. Vlad was very serious about that and Adrian had given her a thumbnail of the Tepes family tree once. She knew that their family line was extensive and could be traced ridiculously far back.

She sped up as she neared the double doors to Adrian’s suites and opened the door to his sitting room, spotting the dining table and kitchen through the open door at the end of the room. The space was lovely, quiet shades of grey, black and navy and filled with light.

It was similar to his apartment in terms of style but the touches of wealth were heightened significantly. The cloth in the curtains, the lines of the furniture, the grain of the wallpaper, the gleam of the wood, even the frames on the art—everything worked into a chorus of wealth. It also didn’t smell like him to her.

Pleasant yes, and certainly like the lavender he favored and clean, older homes. But there was no licorice undertones and most importantly, no fragrance of paints or turpentine. The smell of his vocation was essential to who he was and it always struck her as a little sad that it was missing from his childhood home.

She noted the blinking light on the small machine beside a sheaf of envelopes left on the side table. Huh, she thought but then nature insisted she move on. She took a door on the side and found the bathroom with a sigh of relief. When she washed her hands, she smiled at the clutch of lavender in the tiny vase and the print of Vampire D over the bidet.

Sypha wandered through the sitting room, past the dining room with the massive painting from Adrian Stimson, ghostly shadows of bison smeared into drifting snow like mirages of the past. In the kitchen she took a moment to peer out the window into the gardens that stretched into the pastures. The horses were grazing, little figures against the green.

She heard someone outside the door and realized that Julius must have dropped off the bags. Time for my swim, she thought happily and headed back out to the sitting room to bring them in. It wasn’t until she had dragged everything over the threshold, shut the door and turned around that she saw the blinking light again.

It was a digital message center and she didn’t have the passcode for it. Hope it’s not urgent, she thought with a shrug. She looked at the envelopes beside it and made a cooing sound. It was a bunch of invitations to art openings, concerts, parties and events. She checked the dates—all for this weekend. When she saw the one for Anish Kapoor she whooped. Trevor would freak out! she thought.

They’d discussed artistic inspirations and Anish was a big one for him. She wasn’t sure that he would actually want to meet the man, after all, Anish liked to lean on his high-brow status to such an extent that even she had to roll her eyes. Even just to see the exhibit, though… Sypha put it on the top of the pile.

Carrying her bags to the hall with the bedrooms she paused. In the apartment they’d all been sleeping in Adrian’s king size in a happy tangle, but she didn’t know what he would want to do here. That hurt a little to accept, but this was his home turf. She opened the door to the guest room she’d stayed in before and dumped her bag. Unzipping her suitcase, she found her bikini and started to strip.

---

Vlad ended the call and stretched his neck to one side. Taking a deep breath, he absently rubbed his brow and then typed a few more notes in his laptop before saving it. He checked the time. He had approximately fifteen minutes before his call with the chancellor and he— the intercom chimed. Biting back the sigh, he pressed the button. “Yes,” he said, the faint accent threaded through the command to speak.

“Your son and his guests have arrived,” came the voice of his assistant, Andrei.

Both guests have been attended?” Vlad asked with anticipation. There was a pause and then the man spoke again.

“According to Julius, yes,” said Andrei. “I have only seen Ms. Belnades myself. She said that Mr. Belmont and your son are napping in the limo. They have yet to appear.”

Vlad shook his head. It was not a significant thing in the safety of their home, but very unlike Adrian to allow even a whiff of implication. He must be very tired, the elder Tepes thought and felt a flash of fury at the art teacher Shaft and this ‘Agent Isaac.’

“Of course. Leave them be. It has been quite the week for Adrian,” he continued, a gentle brushstroke over the awkwardness of his son napping in close proximity with another man. They would be on the other side of the vehicle of course, but it was the appearance of the thing.

“You have the call with the chancellor right away sir, but I also have Sala on the line about the Lindenfeld’s matter.”

No quick walk to greet Sypha then, he thought with apology. Such was his lot in life and this had to be handled.

“Please transfer it in then and chime the line when I have three minutes remaining, thank you.” He hung up without waiting for confirmation of his instructions. Vlad knew his assistant. More to the point, he was a man who knew his words carried weight and would be obeyed. It had always been that way for him. He controlled the world around him, shared what he wished and stared down everything else with ruthless will and enormous pride.

The phone chimed again, he picked it up and heard the ‘click click’ that indicated the secured line had engaged. “Sala, speak to me,” he said and listened for a moment.

“That’s absurdly fast,” he murmured unhappily. “Have they identified the Belmont yet?” He flexed his fist. “That’s not good, damn it. Yes, I know you did, but—” He stiffened.

“What do you mean he touched my son? Wait, what? Repeat that. La dracu,*” he hissed, “a lover's spat?! That's absurd! Yes, send it to me now.” Moments later his laptop chimed.

He opened the email and clicked on the video, noting the corresponding source link as Youtube. Everyone was the paparazzi these days, he thought grimly and watched the clip. It clearly started in the middle of the conversation and thankfully was across the street from the scene. Between the breathing of the person filming and the passing traffic, you couldn’t hear the content of the discussion and that was a blessing. He looked at the body language of Agent Isaac with fresh interest.

After Adrian’s call, Vlad had tapped one of his contacts and had Isaac’s personnel file on his desk within 45 minutes. It had been impressive, but nothing earth shattering. The photograph had suggested a contained, intelligent man. Tepes knew who he was, having kept tabs on the Belmont investigation from the start, but he’d never seen Isaac on film or in the flesh.

A trickle of awareness warned him that perhaps he should have paid closer attention to the lead agent on the case. The man’s face was impassive and there was an alarming amount of restraint and care in the man’s movements. When Isaac passed his card to Julius, Vlad snarled. You crossed the line; he thought and made a mental note to obtain the card.

Sala cleared his throat. “My Lord?” he asked quietly.

“A moment,” Vlad said shortly. Sala was silent again. He watched Isaac walk away and Trevor turn. Wait, what was that? he thought and backed it up again. He played it once more and took a deep breath. He backed it up and watched one more time to be sure. It was subtle but it was there.

Adrian had been touching Trevor’s back during the conversation with Isaac. Julius’ body had been blocking it. It looked suggestive but he suspected that his boy had been trying to get Trevor to stop speaking and defuse the situation. Still, it didn’t look good and perception was everything, he thought.

“Sala,” he said, “Soma must handle this. Now.”

He watched Trevor grab Adrian’s wrist and the look of concern on the blonde’s face. Adrian did not tell me about this part, he thought and wondered when his son started keeping things from him. He is tired, you are reading too much into this. When Trevor turned to Julius and snarled, there was something on his son’s face that tripped through his heart.

No, Vlad thought, tingling dread stretching over him, it's far away and you cannot be sure. It wasn’t possible and he would not consider it.

“Oh shit, he is pissed!” the person holding the phone camera said. He could see why people were commenting about a ‘lover’s quarrel.’ There was a lot of emotion there.

Like father, like son, he thought as he watched Trevor’s face. Dominic’s temper had been a match to his own at times.

“I want this pulled and it cannot show up on any news feeds. Is it possible?” Vlad asked, working to control the anger in his words.

Sala sighed softly. “I can try, my Lord. Fortunately, it only has 3,000 hits but the algorithm has shown the numbers are rising swiftly now.”

“Then Soma better work fast. In the meantime, reach out to Youtube for me.” Vlad hung up and pushed back from his desk. He needed a moment before speaking with the chancellor. He checked the clock. Seven minutes.

Quickly he crossed the study floor, opened the door and strode over to Andrei, who looked up with surprise. “I have to check on something, I should be back in time for my call but if not, tell him to wait. I would not be long. Please email Soma and tell him to contact Sala immediately. Oh! And I should like some socata* please, with a dash of lemon waiting for me when I return.” He kept moving, mindful of the time.

One of his security team stood to follow and he waved her down. “I am going to my quarters; I will be back shortly.” His tone suggested she would not follow. The woman sat back down with a nod.

Long legs had their uses and he found himself standing in the hall of his quarters in short order, only slightly out of breath. Placing his palm on the lower panel and pulling his ponytail to the side for the imprint of his ear, he was granted access to the inner room. Three doors greeted him and he chose the last one. Another security code, an eye scan and the door clicked open.

This was his personal vault. The other two doors were Adrian’s and Lisa’s. Such was the price of fame. Things like family photos, videos of Adrian as a child, report cards, Lisa’s love letters and the personal ephemera of life had to be kept under lock and key. Or in this case, steel and digital scans. They were more valuable on the open market than much of his extensive collections. His staff was vetted, trusted and had been with him for decades in most cases, but some lessons had been hard learned.

Lisa had the code to this space, just as he had hers. Or so she thought. He’d changed his only four days ago when he’d brought the painting back and stored it in here. He would change it back to the one she had, once he returned it to the loft. Vlad hated lying to her. He’d sworn not to and he knew it was wrong. But she would never know. The whole thing was a fucking mess and he would protect his family no matter what or it would have been for nothing.

Still, as he stepped into the vault and the light went on, he felt regret. Regret for what he could never share, regret for the loss of two people he had admired and called friend until the very end, and regret for the lies that continued to swirl through his life and the life of their son.

It seemed fate would bring the families together again, even if it was just through Sypha, Vlad thought with resignation.

He approached the painting and turned it. I had no business bringing this home, he thought again as he looked at the children and wished he understood the compulsion to do so.

Penelope had captured Adrian’s solemn gaze and that slightly sweet exasperation perfectly. Vlad looked at the little boy whose hand was tangled in his son’s hair and wondered what he looked like now. He plucked the letter tucked into the frame out and put the painting back against the wall, facing inward. Opening the envelope, he read it again:

Dear Vlad,
I hope this finds you well. I read the article on your son and immediately thought of this. I confess, I toyed with whether to paint it or not given the circumstances…

When Vlad returned to his study, his socata, and his waiting call with the chancellor, he had a faint ache at his temples and his heart matched the throb. Would that this visit with Trevor Belmont be my chance to get to know the son of my two friends, perhaps even offer him the care I couldn’t before, he thought with yearning.

But when Vlad unlocked his laptop to make notes, with the chancellor happily extolling the virtues of the latest bill, he saw the paused Youtube video and wondered.

Would it be safe? Could his family associate with Belmont? Had the stigma and scandal died down enough? Sala certainly didn’t think so but…

He looked at the frozen frame of his son and frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t the scandal that Belmont brought with him that I should be worried about, he thought again as he studied Adrian's face, trying to ignore that flutter of fear.

---

After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray
Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay
Secrets stolen
From deep inside
The drum beats out of time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
You said, "go slow"
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds

-"Time After Time," Cyndi Lauper

Notes:

Socata is a traditional Romanian soft drink made from elderberry flowers, sugar, lemon and water that is let to sit to infuse. The resulting soft drink is similar to lemonade but sparkling and with a strong floral fragrance. Vlad likes his extra sour.

*La dracu -literally ‘fuck’/ ‘the fuck.’
---
So we come to the weekend!!! Hopefully this was a good tease and not a full spill! I am so interested to see how this might change/confirm any theories you have! Hope you enjoyed it, take care!
---
Castle from Pixaby, photographer Oleg Mityukhin, Adrian-Erik Andersson, Trevor-unknown, Sypha-courtesy 'Mane & Tails' shampoo advert, Vlad-Jeff Bridges.

Chapter 32: Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky

Summary:

“Come now gorgeous girl,” the sculptor murmured, wishing for a carrot or some apple. “What might your name be?” The horse snorted and stomped her foot as if to say, ‘try harder.’

“Oh, believe me, I understand,” he said conversationally. “A strange man indeed, but I promise,” his tone dropped seductively, “I know how to treat a lady.” 

Her flocculent ears pointed toward him, grey eyes considering. Her coat shimmered, health and energy a glowing aura around her. There was no chance he wouldn’t try to touch her. It was an unquestioned hunger to capture something stolen and reclaim it here and now in this other life.

“You are so damn pretty,” Trevor murmured soothingly, “but you know that, don’t you? Clever girl like you.”

Notes:

Chapter 32_1

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Even tucked into the deep pockets of sleep, Trevor would know that sound anywhere. It was a distinctive one. A satisfying snick that ended with a rounded clap; hooves on gravel. A quiet whicker of contentment and the restless snort of docile impatience. Sounds he had not heard in years brought instant awareness that pulled an internal fire alarm. A life that he thought was gone came rushing back to swamp him in the vulnerable depths of sleep.

Waking to the golden light of the limo, Trevor blinked groggily, confused as to where he was. Did I fall asleep coming back from an opening again, and Mom and Dad left me to sleep in the limo?

The crimson leather and white roses were a tiny funeral service to that assumption. 

They are gone, he thought dully. And it was my fault.

Helpless and unguarded, grief was a casket on his shoulder and Trevor was the unwilling pallbearer. The afternoon sun burned his skin like an accusation, as though it might cremate him in retribution.

There was a slight shift against his torso and under his hands. He looked down. Like a rumpled angel who’d fallen asleep under a pew, Adrian was curled into him in a compact knot. The black slacks and black blouse were slightly crumpled. His fingers were curved against Trevor’s torso, golden tresses spilling over the sculptor’s thighs and partially obscuring the painter’s face. The blonde's breath fluttered the tips of his hair, turning them into little waving hands.

Love was a million creeping insects scurrying inside the brunette’s heart, tunnelling, building, molding and creating new worlds hidden from view. Adrian was precious, he was perfect, and he belonged to Belmont.

What I wouldn’t do for you, Trevor thought and sighed. The sculptor was not happy about what he had agreed to, but he was at peace with it for now. It was difficult for him to do anything but agree, given the reality of Adrian’s public exposure. 

As much as Trevor despised it for coming between them, he couldn’t fault the Tepes’ fear of it. He remembered the press after his parents’ death and it was awful. It looked like it could be even worse than he’d thought.

The difference is, he acknowledged, I don’t give a damn about public opinion as long as Adrian would stay.

But the brunette wanted to make a good impression on Lord and Lady Tepes. It was essential to his plans and Trevor knew now that he was fighting the legacy of his family in the Tepes’ eyes. Even if the trio couldn’t publicly be lovers, Belmont would strive to settle for privately. It would never work if Adrian’s family would not accept it. 

What if they don’t? He wondered, fear niggling at him. Do you really think he would choose you over them? You are lying to yourself if you think that you have a choice here. If you want to stay with him, there is no choice.

A soft huffing sound—and he suddenly remembered why he had woken. His head jerked up and Trevor saw them. A group of black horses, peace incarnate, meandered across the vast expanse of pasture the road lead down. A thudding ache rose up under his chest and he held his breath. 

Friesians, Belmont noted immediately. Long black tails, dripping manes of shadow against glossy coats that gleamed in the low sun; these regal creatures of power and might flowed together like coffee pouring into a mug.

Against the fiercely romantic sun spearing through the trees, they seemed to glide like their mythical winged ancestors. Winking like the white of an eye among them was a pale, elegant Arabian, delicate but strong, and two stunning Appaloosas, splotched in white and black. 

It was because the white mare caught his eye that Trevor saw him appear, like a rising sun behind the moon. The brunette just stared. 

Emerging like a brass button through a buttonhole, was a horse of pure gold; delicate forelegs, strong haunches and a long tail of fluttering metallic like the wings of a butterfly. It was like the horse was made of water, absorbing the afternoon sun into its flesh and rippling it back like a mirage. 

I know this breed, he thought, fascinated and unaware he was holding his breath. But he couldn't place it.

The horse’s coat sparkled like a polished pirate’s coin in the sun. Trevor had never seen one that brilliantly golden and for a moment he was sure he was seeing things. 

The palomino teasingly nipped at the Arabian and suddenly they were prancing and bucking beside each other as the herd jostled around them. Two Friesians caught up in the frolic flashed from absolute stillness to abrupt diving and rearing. 

The moment was caught in his breath, soft sheen and flung manes, the rise and fall of flesh that was cultivated power and majesty. It was inconceivable that creatures so huge, so powerful and so physical could move as though the laws of gravity simply didn’t exist. 

God, they were all so gorgeous, he thought as his heart danced in his chest. All long limbs and flawless splendour, the unusual herd nudged each other like small children waiting for Santa and tossed their manes. 

The sculptor opened the door of the limo and squinted at the bright light. The horses paced and grazed, ghosts of a time in his life that he left behind. They were a reminder that he hadn’t outgrown that life, so much as he’d had to abandon it. 

Carefully, he edged out from under Adrian and lowered the blonde down to the leather. The painter curled even tighter; a leggy, sleek kitten seeking a patch of warm sunlight. Trevor’s heart squeezed painfully and he crouched down to kiss Adrian’s head. His lover stayed nestled; arms pillowing his head. 

Trevor quietly shut the door behind him and stood there, waiting and watching. 

One of the big black Friesians whickered and broke into a trot. The white Arabian followed suit. Suddenly, the small herd was frolicking through the grass, sunlight shimmering on gleaming muscles. His breath caught and something in his soul ran with them. He could swear that they were laughing at each other now, nipping and whinnying as they spread out over the lawn edging closer to him. The wind kissed the horse tails into swaying and bees hummed as Trevor stepped away from the car, through the arch and down the stairs to the overflowing beds.

Rich earth, sappy green buds and a faint scent of hay and manure layered on the low, crisp aroma of the lake water and the tangy green of cut grass. Breathing deep, the brunette couldn’t smell anything that wasn’t wild.

The flower beds spread either side of him; spears of larkspur thrust up from riots of white roses. Deep crimson lilies nodded alongside vibrant carpets of Scottish moss and creamy calla lilies. Proud Siberian irises as big as his fist were lovingly cuddled by the silvery felt leaves of lambs’ ear and dusty miller. The scents and colors were an orchestra that somehow sang a chorus of wild elegance to him. 

“Speaking of wild elegance; you are so beautiful, pretty things,” Trevor crooned at the horses, before he even thought about it. 

Old habits died hard, he reflected as he made his way down the generous path. 

Talking little snippets of nonsense in an easy ramble, he paused to take his chains off and pocket them before moving past the flowers and stepping on the grass. Large brown eyes regarded him calmly and ears swivelled toward the scruffy human with the melodic voice.  

He’d picked up the habit of talking to horses from Morning Star, his rodeo horse. When he’d nagged long enough, his father had finally caved to the logic of a thirteen year old boy. She’d been a beautiful sable Mustang with a half-diamond splotch on her forehead that looked like a rising sun.

It hurt to remember her and he felt her loss like a missing child searching for his mother in the supermarket. Morning Star had been both fiery and loyal and they’d trained together. He’d been extraordinarily lucky with her and they’d understood each other on a fundamental level. The connection had been pure magic.

The sculptor hadn’t thought of her in a while and it still felt like a punishment to do so. In so many ways, she’d been his first love. Just one more thing that died in the mess of what my parents did, he thought, and the mistake that cost me everything.

It was a sliver jammed under his fingernail that he didn’t even know what had happened to her. Losing her had been like losing the last part of his family. She was considered part of the assets of his parents' criminal activity and had been seized. 

Haughty pride and high spirits, the Arabian cantered in an easy lope around the herd and stopped a few paces from the sculptor. She was so close that Trevor could see the twitch of her flanks and the shiver of indignation on her snout.

“Come now gorgeous girl,” the sculptor murmured, wishing for a carrot or some apple. “What might your name be?” The horse snorted and stomped her foot as if to say, ‘try harder.’

“Oh, believe me, I understand,” he said conversationally. “A strange man indeed, but I promise,” his tone dropped seductively, “I know how to treat a lady.” 

Her flocculent ears pointed toward him, grey eyes considering. Her coat shimmered, health and energy a glowing aura around her. There was no chance he wouldn’t try to touch her. It was an unquestioned hunger to capture something stolen; reclaim it here and now in this other life.

“You are so damn pretty,” Trevor murmured soothingly, “but you know that, don’t you? Clever girl like you.”

Silhouetted against the low sun, she stood haloed in sunlight, a reminder of a life that was no longer his, and a time where nothing had limits but his own skill. It pulsed inside of him, sweet and sharp longing. To touch her would be opening a window into his own soul and letting in the chinook after a long winter. He extended his hand to her, the soft skin of her nose twitching as her nostrils flared. 

“Come now my lovely,” he coaxed. “I promise to be so nice.” The horse tossed her head gently and danced in place, but she did not run. 

It was pure, delighted triumph when she nudged his hand; her impossibly tender skin slightly cool against his palm. Horses’ noses were one of the softest things on the planet and he stroked gently. Trevor felt a prickling in his nostrils and recalled the scent of fresh hay, the excitement of the crowds and the feel of being so in tune with Morningstar that they moved as one. 

I have missed this, he thought, the weight of loss and longing like an overloaded grocery bag that was going to splatter the milk everywhere when it broke.

“You like to run, don’t you?” he asked her, hands remembering the shape of a horse like reuniting with a lover after a forced estrangement. He trailed his hand over strong shoulders and admired her gorgeous shape. She was well-formed, sleek without the weakness of ankles, or sharp withers that could be a problem with Arabians. 

“You make me want to ride again,” he told her as she shifted against his shoulder. “All agile elegance and sparkling life. There is nothing quite like it, really.”

Trevor’s grin was sinful as he thought about being inside of Sypha in the limo while Adrian’s hand slid between their bodies. “Okay, there is one thing like it in my life right now, but that is just for me, and you wouldn’t understand.” 

The white hide rumbled with her whinny. “Don’t laugh! Believe me, it’s amazing.” 

Her neck rounded as she turned toward him and again, he had the impression she was arching an eyebrow. “Right,” he continued apologetically, “not conversation fit for a lady’s company.” 

She tossed her head and he laughed. “Sass and pride,” he grinned. “I can relate to that. I appreciate a woman who has both. You should meet my Sypha, she’s--”

There was a flash of spun gold and a thunderous pounding as the herd broke into a canter towards the far side of the lawn. Trevor felt the mare tense to follow and reluctance split his joy. He let his hands fall.

“It’s alright. You are made to run, sweetheart and I won’t keep you.” His wistful tone was not lost on his ears but he couldn’t help it. “Go on and be with them.” The horse turned toward him, pawed at the ground and snorted.

It’s like she’s waiting, he thought, limbs tingling with anticipation.

With regret he told her, “Oh, I can’t. I haven’t ridden in years, much less bareback. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” The herd was trotting now, towards the edge of the lawn. The mare looked toward them and whinnied.

When the golden horse circled back, Trevor realized, he’s not as deep gold as I thought. The tint of the limo windows had dampened the glitter of him. The horse was almost exactly the tint of Adrian’s hair and glistened like sunbeams stirred in cream. 

Cremello, the word popped in. It’s a Cremello. But that was his color, not the… 

”Holy fucking hell, you are an Akhal-Tekea aren’t you?!?” he asked, careful to lower his voice from the shout that had risen up as the revelation had struck with the force of a meteor. 

He’d seen the breed before of course, but not the Cremellos. The golden ones were rare and expensive as hell. The Cremellos were the crown jewels of Akhal-Tekea breeders and would never be rodeo animals; Trevor had only seen them in photographs. 

The stallion blinked at the sculptor and stepped to the mare’s nose. She nuzzled him and the palomino horse exhaled sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Trevor asked quietly and the stallion pranced to the side, away from the man. “Skittish, mmmm. That’s alright. I was telling her to go ahead anyway.”

The mare stepped into him, rocking Trevor to the side. “What? I’m not in the way.” 

He stepped back again and she followed. She wants me to ride. The excitement jumped into his throat even as he tried to talk himself out of it. His limbs were aching to have even a moment of what he remembered.  

“Promise to take it easy? I’m very out of practice and like an old man now,” he told her and she rolled an eye back to him. The herd had kept moving and her ears swivelled toward them. You’ll fall on your ass, he thought and didn’t give a shit.

“To hell with it,” Trevor said, guiding her to the steps. Grasping her mane, he used the second step to launch himself onto her back. 

He was further back on the Arabian than he would have liked, but at least he had a good grip in her mane. Which was fortunate or he would have fallen for sure. His mount wheeled and then; playfully, joyfully, she bolted. 

Oh shit! Trevor thought, unable to even catch his breath. He automatically adjusted his legs, brought his other hand to her mane and edged closer to her withers. When he didn’t immediately tumble off, Belmont started to breathe again. She was fast, fluid and incredibly responsive. Someone had spent time and money in training this horse.

Well shit, he thought, I’m in love! and laughed; a joyful, rich sound. 

The rightness of it swept over him, wonderful memories surfacing into being and clinging to the back of his throat like hot chocolate thawing frosty lungs. Then his mount tossed her back feet in a little dance and the golden horse came alongside her. The two underwent an intricate frolic much like little birds bathing in a puddle.

“Come on now! I’m old and breakable, remember?!?” Trevor gasped, even as he laughed. She moved under him; a creature of thunderous speed and rippling muscle that stretched toward infinity as though it could be obtained. 

I’d forgotten, he thought, what this felt like. It was a clean pain, edged with a lacy sweetness like a blade crusted in frosting.

It took a moment for him to find the Arabian’s rhythm and then he just forgot everything. Riding a horse was the closest thing to flying. When he was on one, Trevor Belmont didn’t exist. There was only a gilded hero adorned in accolades soaring on his Pegasus. It was what captured him from the start and coaxed a small boy to nag his parents into horseback riding lessons.

The herd kept pace around them; jostling, sleek forms that sought for a means to leave the pesky restraints of gravity. Trevor knew just how they felt, and a slow, sly smile worked its way across his lips. He stroked the Arabian’s neck and bent low over her, voice tantalizing promise, “What do you say, pretty girl, want to go for a real ride?” 

The whistled yelp he’d used on his uncle’s ranch to get the cattle moving worked just as well on the horses. They stampeded toward the edge of the lawn in a flight of carefree exuberance, skirting the forest like wheeling birds in a summer sky. 

Eager, agile and fast, the Arabian wove her way through the glistening midnight and the pounding tempo of creatures built to soar filled Trevor’s ears. Approaching a small, lightly wooded area threaded through the side of the open expanse, the sculptor used his heels to press the Arabian toward a break in the trees. 

The Akhal-Tekea was so close he could have switched saddles, if only the horses were wearing them. As it was, it would be death if he fell right now. 

I would die happy then, he thought and felt a whoop bubble up. “I’m Trevor Fucking Belmont!” he bellowed happily as the herd thinned out, dividing at the line of trees. The sculptor slipped into the path between the woods and the thicket.

He let his head fall back. The sun was warm against his face, planting citrus kisses in a warm orange glow against his eyelids. For a moment, as he always had on horseback, Trevor felt a freedom from everything. There was nothing here but speed, wind and a unity so simple and fundamental that it avalanched joy inside of him. Nothing but the animal, the scent of sun-warmed wood and the feeling that all the meaning he needed in his life could be found inside this moment.

For the first time in weeks, he felt restored and balanced. There were no questions here and nothing but the ride. The sunlight flickered through green leaves, a kaleidoscope of gold that dappled his closed eyelids in a patchwork of shadow. It surprised, and then humbled, that he could feel tears prickle the edges of his eyes. 

Nope, we aren’t doing that, he thought. We are racing for all we are worth. 

He opened his eyes as the herd wheeled to follow the broken curve of the woods. The trees thinned and the herd merged back together, the Arabian in the lead as they galloped up a small rise and eased around a low stone wall with massive lilac shrubs just starting to bud. When they came around the other side of the lilacs, Trevor saw the estate spread out in front of him. 

That’s a fucking castle, he thought, awed and alarmed. It looked like a cross between a vampire’s lair and Sleeping Beauty’s fortress. He’d seen pictures of the Tepes estate in Time magazine when he was a boy but had only the impression of wealth, power and the certainty that it’d be a bitching hide and seek setting. As he recalled, the interior was equally impressive, all old beauty and historical wealth.

What would it have been like to grow up here? He wondered and felt the weight of such a thing press on him. It had been bad enough being in the gallery. Once Trevor had knocked some of the priceless artworks over when he’d been moving some boxes. The look on his father’s face...

He shook his head and deliberately looked at the imposing manor. With several more years under his belt since the first time he’d seen it, Trevor could appreciate the sculptural presence of building. He wasn’t much for gardens but he enjoyed the way the riotous blooms simultaneously softened the looming presence while also framing it in an underscored civility. 

Apparently Vlad Tepes didn’t believe in hiding his light under a bushel, he thought, humor and anxiety warring flavors in his mouth. 

He wondered about the woman that would match such a man and pictured Adrian when he was teaching. He imagined Lisa Tepes as equally cool, calm and self-possessed. 

It is easy to see why Adrian had problems, he thought, the rising anger smearing the happy bliss of his ride. Vlad was likely demanding as hell and Lisa remote and disapproving. 

They were just so fucking lucky their son is unbelievably tender hearted, he thought. I would have told them to shove it years ago. It would take every scrap of patience Trevor had not to get involved. The painter loved his parents dearly and the sculptor wanted to make this work.

The horses galloped up a sloping rise that met the edge of the manor and Trevor grinned. Behind the building, the land fell away toward a vast expanse of water that shimmered crimson and fire like the tail of a comet. 

There was a landscaped complex of raised beds, statues, plots and arches that stretched across the back lawn and worked its way down the slope in vast terraces of stone and rampaging color. There was a low stone wall with blooming tea roses and several statues, beds and bushes laid out before them. Behind it all, the vast expanse of the lake joined the lawn that melted into sand and rock several hundred feet away.

Several Friesians broke off toward the shoreline but Belmont was not ready for this to end.

“What do you think baby? I think we can take it, don’t you?” Feeling the animal gather herself under him, they surged over the wall in one seamless leap, clearing the flowerbed with ease. For three beats of his heart, the sculptor was airborne.

“Whoohoo!!” Trevor crowed and lined them up for the next wall. 

The Akhal-Teke stayed with them, hugging the corners in a synchronized jump while the remaining Friesians peeled off, favoring a wheeling arc over the back lawns that skirted the lake. 

The garden beds were tiered toward the water front like giant’s steps where flowers had sprung up in the footprints. They navigated the corners in tight wheels and the golden horse slowed before joining the Friesians, who were now approaching the lake for a drink.

Just like barrel racing, Belmont thought and murmured encouragement to his mount as they came around two hedges with a vined awning. 

It was a blur of black, what sounded like a damned hellhound, and his mount neighed with terror. When she reared Trevor didn’t fight it. He let go, allowing himself to be launched into the hedge. 

Boxwood embraced him and tore at his arms as he dropped like a stone into it, crushing the yielding shrub and slicing branches. “Fuck! Damn it! OW! Son of a—" he stopped thrashing when he heard the threatening growl. 

When he looked up, he was facing down an actual, fucking wolf. Three of them.

--- 

 

She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place

And if I stared too long I'd probably break down and cry

-"Sweet Child 'O Mine," Guns 'n Roses

Notes:

Hello Faithful Reader! 💜
It feels SO AWESOME to bring you this chapter. As some of you know, I have been on forced hiatus due to computer issues but I am back, I have a bunch of (unedited) chapters and I am ready to finish this story with you!!

This chapter was written literally five minutes before my computer died and it was like reuniting with a long lost friend to get it back. I hope it was as cathartic to read it as it was for Trevor to take his ride.

In celebration of getting my work back, there will be another chapter forthcoming within the next 24 hours as I have only edits and the moodboard to make. I hope you enjoy the double feature--Lisa's POV is upcoming.

Last and certainly not least, I need to say thank you to a couple of people who were incredibly supportive to me when I was losing hope.

Blasty Baja: Your excitement and love for this text is truly staggering and I cannot thank you enough.

Countess_Chinon_Dysandreux: You've challenged me and kept me consistent on how these characters grow and evolve. You continued to reach out to me, check in and offer encouragement. Thank you for all your support.

I need to give a special shout out to Armouredescort. You were a literal rock in the storm. You remained consistently optimistic throughout everything and listened to my heartbreak, uncertainty and despair with patience and kindness. My endurance and continued writing is in no small part due to you. Thank you for being my friend.

As always, my own beloved, JAJ. 'I believe so that I may understand.'
----
Horse by Missi Kopf (Pexels), Castle (Harlaxton College, Wikipedia), Trevor (Model: Giulio Berruti)

Chapter 33: But do be glad baby when you've found

Summary:

Lisa felt a little worm of concern in her guts again when she thought about Trevor and Adrian. She knew that her son would not bring someone home to them that he didn’t trust, not even for Sypha, so obviously they were at least friends now. Sypha had been the first friend he’d introduced to her since he was twelve. Lisa didn’t count the casual acquaintance’s of her colleagues children. 

In what capacity was Trevor visiting? She wondered. Were they just friends or also lovers now? Is he still the gorgeous jerk, or was he now ‘Beloved’?

Notes:

Chapter 33

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lisa had a headache; the chairperson was frustrating her to no end. She despised teleconferences and the emergency CORC meeting was exhausting. 

They had finally agreed that they must mount an effective response to the attack and subsequent kidnapping of the 43 schoolgirls within the district that the UNWWV had been operating in, but they were fundamentally divided on what the response should be. There were UN forces in neighboring Nigeria, but who could be spared and what resources could be marshalled, was a coordination argument that had gone far into the afternoon. 

All her reasoning had been steadfastly ignored and sidelined by the chairperson, Clarence. Why even have a doctor if you aren’t going to listen to the ramifications of ceasing our vaccination work in order to send the medical and military personnel to the next country over?, she thought.

Lisa was arguing in favor of splitting the teams and spending a longer period completing the vaccinations but getting a head start on pursuing the schoolgirls. Two other committee members concurred, but there was a core of the committee that was in favor of simply abandoning this round of vaccines in favor of pursuit.

Knowing what it took to get the vaccination roll out approved the first time, Lisa was not in favor of full abandonment. The chairperson had repeated insinuated that she was heartless not to prioritize the well being of the kidnapped girls and she’d muted herself to give her space to call him a stupid cămașă umplută*.

It’d taken the edge off, and now, ninety minutes in, they were finally moving into the logistics of the suggestions. She was listening to the representative from the European Union discuss the fact that their team was the closest to the kidnappers and most mobile to assemble, when inspiration struck.

Muting again, Lisa emailed her assistant Catherine and requested she locate the briefings on the vaccine rollouts from last month, specifically the Nigerian ones. Moments later the answering email popped up. Lisa scanned the information, checked that she was still muted and said, “Dodge this Clarence, you glumă jalnică*

She put up her digital hand in the conference and waited. When the countdown in the corner of her laptop flashed three, she composed her face and folded her hands. Neutral was always best. The camera came on and Lisa saw her face on the primary screen. 

“Thank you for allowing me to speak. Further to the comments of Natalia, I have noted that there is in fact another team, specifically in the western part of Nigeria who is also administering vaccines. They were deployed only two weeks ago, which is why we don’t have them on the roster."

“However, if you refer to the minutes from the briefings on placements,” she sent the email with the highlighted passage, “you can see that a team of 32, with a platoon of soldiers, two tanks and a mobile unit was deployed a mere 157 kilometres from the current location of the kidnappers.”

Excited utterances that were quickly muted broke out among the committee and the debates started with renewed gusto. The camera winked back to the chairperson and Lisa noted with satisfaction he was reading in earnest.

Forty minutes later, Lisa’s headache was pounding, but triumph was a salve on her mood. 

“The vote passes.” Clarence said with a sniff. “I need to make the call to the Nigerian team to see if they could deploy as well. Please break for 25 minutes and we will reconvene accordingly. Twenty five minutes precisely.” Lisa smiled and set the timer on her watch before she sat back in her chair and rolled her shoulders.

The headache brought her fingertips to her temples and she sighed. She needed fresh air and to stretch her legs. When she opened her eyes the ache behind them gave her pause. Sighing again, she pressed the button for her assistant.

“Yes, Lisa, how may I help?” Catherine asked.

“Excellent news, I think we might have this wrapped up in time for cocktails.” Catherine’s happy murmur made Lisa smile. “Exactly. Unfortunately I have a truly spectacular headache brewing. Could you please order me some tea and something… actually, salmon, raclette and dill pinwheels on sourdough. Yes, just two, I don’t want to ruin supper.” Lisa listened for a moment and sighed. “Yes, you are right, I will take the Tylenol too, just one though please.”

“I am going to walk in the gardens but I don’t need an escort, I will take the dogs. Please just leave it on my desk. Only you, Catherine; I have the documents spread out. Of course, and thank you.” She hung up.

Truthfully, she just wanted to be alone, but Vlad would be unhappy if she didn’t take someone with her. The dogs were a compromise. She looked over at the dark, muscular, long forms flopped on the couch. 

“Seară*, Conte*? Where is your—ah,” the shaggy head popped out from behind the couch. Liquid chocolate eyes with a hint of maroon peeked from midnight fur and then a rhythmic thudding as the dog wagged her tail. 

“Come on, Devora*,” Lisa said with a playful grin. The big wolf hybrid stretched patiently and then stood. Lisa opened the French doors to her garden and breathed deeply. 

“Run,” she said and then laughed as the black blurs bulleted out into the fragrant grounds. She stepped down and inhaled again. The stone walls and hedges artfully provided sliced views of her home and property while keeping her shielded from any prying eyes in the lake or woods. 

There was no risk of anyone spying on them but they’d planned the landscaping accordingly anyway. Vlad had insisted and she’d understood.

Intruders had been an issue in the past until Vlad had made his statement against those who dared to take photos of her in the privacy of the estate. When she was carrying Adrian, a photographer had snapped her asleep in a lawn chair at the edge of the lake.

Eight and a half months pregnant, she’d tired in the afternoon sun and sat down to rest. There she’d fallen asleep, thick braid over one shoulder, ankles in the cool water, white dress rippling easily around her calves. 

She'd been holding her belly gently; Adrian had been dancing the night before and kept her up. A soft smile had played on her mouth and the peace in the shot was poignant. 

It had been a stunning photograph and the image had been celebrated as a symbol of maternal love on the cover of Newsweek.

Lisa had loved it the moment she’d seen it. She’d also felt violated.

Vlad had been furious and protective, upset about her emotional upheaval so late in her pregnancy and the audacity of the photographer to trespass on his land. She smiled. And you don't cross Vlad Dracula Tepes, she thought with love and pride.

It wasn’t even that the photographs were scandalous or worrisome, rather her husband had wanted to set precedent for crossing the line of public and private with the Tepes family. Two weeks later, Lord Tepes owned both the agency that the photographer was working for, and the paper that had sold the image to Newsweek. He fired everyone involved in the matter.

She’d felt it was a tad extreme but also understood that it was a message to the media about infringing on the privacy of their family and a preemptive move to protect their unborn child. 

The irony of course was that Vlad Dracula adored that photo and had a large print hung in his study. Truth be told, she felt happy every time she saw it. There was something sweet about her billowing dress, windswept hair and protective hand on her belly. 

My baby, she remembered, touching her gently sloping stomach now as she looked across her garden. If she concentrated, she could still recall the press of her son as he nestled inside her womb. Love and devotion was a deepset joy in her limbs. 

I wonder about this Belmont, she thought again, returning to the train of thought she’d been entertaining on and off for the last two days. 

When Vlad told her that Soma had rescued him from trumped up assault charges with the FBI, she’d had some concerns. A quick call to Mina and an internet search had assuaged all her fears. Lisa felt pity for the young man. He was alone in the world, having lost his family in a truly horrific manner. 

She wandered down the tiered sections of the garden, caressing the extended honeysuckle vines that waterfalled over the stone wall and smiling at the darting games the dogs were silently playing in the garden. 

Lisa felt a little worm of concern in her guts again when she thought about Trevor and Adrian. She knew that her son would not bring someone home to them that he didn’t trust, not even for Sypha, so obviously they were at least friends now. 

Sypha had been the first friend he’d introduced to her since he was twelve. Lisa didn’t count the casual acquaintance’s of her colleagues children. 

In what capacity was Trevor visiting? She wondered. Were they just friends or also lovers now? Is he still the gorgeous jerk, or was he now ‘Beloved’?  

Like every mother, Lisa worried that her child was treated with the love and respect that she believed he deserved. There was no question of Adrian being cherished by Sypha if they’d taken that step, but this young man seemed unpredictable.

There was no way to untangle the Tepes wealth and prestige from the matter and she was sorry for it. It meant that she needed to walk a fine line of caution and welcome with Trevor Belmont. She trusted her son's judgement but she had also experienced the heartache of being leveraged for who she was.

With another rub for her forehead, she considered her husband's reaction if Adrian now had two lovers. She had not said anything to Vlad for a number of reasons, but had worried how best to support her son if the revelation came about. She knew it would be fireworks even in the best circumstances and suspected that Adrian might forego any disclosures whatsoever if possible. Part of her grieved that and part of her accepted it.

But would his lovers?

She thought about Mina’s explanation of what had happened at the art school between Trevor and the Agent Godbrand. Belmont is not one to play the subtle game of deflection and withholding, she thought ruefully. Still, if Adrian asked it…

The three young people might choose to keep their relationship to themselves if it was the case.

Love is never easy, she thought and had to laugh out loud. She knew that better than most. Devora peeked around a hedge at the sound of her chuckle and immediately melted back into the underbrush.

She heard the thunder of the horses somewhere to her right and coming around this side of the house. 

Sounds like they’re having a run, she thought happily and moved toward the edge of the garden so she could have a look. The three fanged shades spread out around her, silent companions of shadow and happy panting.

“Whoohoo!” came a masculine yelp of pure glee and a laugh that instinctively made her grin in response.

What in the world? She wondered and the sounds of the herd slowing corresponded with a clattering landing. Someone was jumping? Wait, in my garden?!  That instantly dismissed the possibility of Adrian or a stable hand. None of the servants would dare and her son hadn’t messed with her flowers since he was twelve. He knew better.

Her stomach tensed. It could be some joy seeker or random hiker who found the horses and decided to take them for a spin, but experience told her that she couldn’t risk it.

“Pază,*” she said forcefully and snapped her fingers twice. Immediately her dogs fanned out, muscular menace and slinking watchfulness. Devora merged to her side and kept pace. She took out her phone and started backing up. 

It happened so quickly. Luna came around the bend with a young brunette man on her back and Seară and Conte surged forward, leaping at the horse and roaring with fury. Luna reared and the rider went flying into her boxwoods. 

Damn it, she thought as the hedge abruptly acquired a man-sized dent in it. It would never be the same.

Annoyed and still concerned, Lisa pressed the emergency code into her phone and hovered her finger over the send. “Apăra!,*” Lisa called to her dogs and they fused out into a triangle formation, Conte leading.

“Fuck! Damn it!” The voice was low, annoyed and oddly amused. “OW!” Lisa winced as she heard the rip of clothes and a tousled head of russet hair appeared, leaves and spikes of brown mixed into each other like a deranged bird had tried to build a nest. 

“Son of a—" The man’s face appeared and Lisa blinked. He was attractive, young and rugged, a long scar running down the side of his face, brilliantly blue eyes and great shoulders. He froze, eyes on the three dogs that were pacing toward him.

“Who are you?” Lisa asked him, keeping the dogs between them.

He slowly brought his eyes up and then winced. “Um, hello Lady Tepes.” 

Awareness prickled over her. The man obviously knew who she was so what the heck had he been—

“I’m Trevor Belmont, Sypha’s boyfriend?” He started to wave and Seară snarled. He froze again. “I ugh, would really love to not have, ‘Eaten by wolves while gardening’ be my obituary so could if you just could please—”

“Stai jos*,” Lisa said, “Pază.” The dogs stopped moving and Devora returned to her side, sitting down, ears pricked toward Belmont. Lisa put her hand on the massive head and stroked, considering. 

Part of her accepted immediately that this was Trevor. 

Gorgeous jerk indeed, she thought, taking in the tanned face, strong bone structure and small curve of his lips that suggested he might have a truly incredible grin. If this was the man, he had poor impulse control. And where was Adrian? Better to be cautious.

“Do you have any identification?” She asked coolly. The man sagged. 

“That would be smart. An intelligent person would, but I gave my wallet to Sypha to pay for lunch after Lindenfeld’s and she still has it. I know this is dumb but Adrian is in the limo asleep and he would—”

This was Belmont, she thought with amusement, exasperation and a concern that was swelling quickly. This was not who she was expecting, but she could see it. He was charming, attractive and irreverent. 

Oh Adrian, she thought with a pang, if you aren’t in love already, you will be. She wondered again exactly what they were to each other.

“What is my son’s address?” She asked Trevor, face impassive as he rattled it off. Lisa knew she shouldn’t but she was curious. Just what was Trevor to her son? “What painting hangs above Adrian’s bed?”

“There isn’t one, but there is a truly exquisite one of two hands clasping beside it and across from the bed there is a gorgeous one with flowers blooming under the skin.”

Her watch alarm went and the dogs tensed. Time to get back to work , she thought and looked at Trevor. “Stai jos,” she told the animals and then “la usurinta.*” 

Suddenly the dogs were surging toward Trevor, whose eyes went wide. He inhaled sharply. Lisa was surprised and then impressed when he didn’t move, but put out his arms, palms up. 

“Come now pups, we could be such friends,” he said in a low voice and Conte reached him first, massive pink tongue licking out into his palm before stepping into the hedge to whine hopefully. 

The dogs liked him already, she noted with interest. 

There was that laugh again and the man threw his arms around the animal. “Oh, you are so fluffy! Big bad wolf my a— hahah .”

Remembered yourself, didn’t you? Lisa thought with amusement. “Welcome Trevor. I need to return to my call but it was a pleasure to meet you. Please be more careful in the future.” She turned to go and called Devora to her side. She hadn’t taken more than a step when the urgency of Trevor’s voice had her turning.

“Lady Tepes!” Trevor called out. “Nice to meet you and sorry about your plants!”

There was an earnestness in it and the anxiousness of youth, but what brought the smile to her mouth was the sweetness. She turned. 

Here he was, a head in the middle of a swarm of affectionate black fur, broken bush limbs, trampled leaves and a half-torn shirt, and his first thought was her plants and making a good impression. 

Her fears eased. Whether this man loved her son or not, he had a kind heart and that boded well for the future.

He continued, a handsome Pan wreathed in vibrant green. “I beg your pardon for my foolishness. I will pay for this damage; I-I am sorry for this terrible introduction. I had hoped to make a good impression and I am painfully aware this was not it.”

Lisa softened completely. 

She wondered if Trevor understood how much concern and desperate pride was inside those words. He was so young and really, not very good at hiding his emotions. She could see why Adrian was drawn to him.

Her face eased into a smile and his expression drew into one of adoration. “Your smile is just like his,” Trevor said softly. He blinked and a tiny knit of concern grew between his brows. “Excuse me, I meant--”

Lisa grinned. Oh you love him so, don’t you Mr. Belmont, she realized and wasn’t sure what she thought of it yet.

“You meant that I look like my son. Thank you Trevor; there is nothing you could have said that would please me more. I adore Adrian and his smile brings me great joy.” 

She gestured carelessly, lying gently to allow him to save face. “I never cared for that hedge anyway, you’ve done me a favor in ensuring it needs to be replaced. I should be paying you for removing it.” 

Replacing it, at the size it was, would run four figures. There was not a chance that this scruffy young man, with the torn pants and worn boots could afford it.

“I am glad I could be of service then,” Trevor’s smile was wicked amusement but worry edged in again. “Truly though, I apologize for frightening you.”

Lisa waved that away, “You didn't frighten me Belmont, really. More importantly, I am awake now for my extremely boring conference call. I look forward to welcoming you in a less dramatic manner this evening. Have fun exploring.” Devora padded beside her and she made her way back to the open doors of her study. 

It would be an interesting weekend, she thought with happiness and a touch of nerves.

---

First time you feel it, it might make you sad
Next time you feel it, it might make you mad
But do be glad baby when you've found
That's the power makes the world go 'round

And it don't take money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train
It's strong and it's sudden, it can be cruel sometimes
But it might just save your life

-"The Power of Love," Huey Lewis & The News

Notes:

Trevor does not want to google the value of that hedge he just crushed, I'm just saying.
---
cămașă umplută -stuffed shirt
glumă jalnică- pathetic joke
Devora-devour
Conte-count
Seară-twilight, eventide
Pază-guard
Apăra-defend/protect
Stai jos-Sit down
la usurinta-at ease/settle
---
Wolf-Pinterest, Trevor model: Dylan Ryder, Lisa: model unknown, photographer is Alexander Krivitskiy, Horse-Pexels.

Chapter 34: Deep in my heart

Summary:

His greeting merged into a quiet exhale, a gentle southern wind of desire that pressed warmly against her skin. “Sypha,” he murmured as he fell into the easy pleasure of his love for her. 

She startled, head swiftly rising and body freezing like a doe searching the wood. Her face was vulnerable, aware and then she smiled. 

“Hello there,” she said softly. “I like your outfit.”

“Yours is better,” Adrian said thickly, already imagining what the salt on her skin might taste like. “Although, frankly, you could wear a plastic bag and still look beautiful.”

Notes:

Badly Chapter 34

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Where are they? He wondered as he shut the limo door. 

Neither Sypha nor Trevor were in the car and a quick look had determined that there was no one around. Adrian knew that the feeling of being alone was just an illusion. Security was everywhere here. 

He took a deep, steadying breath and stretched. When he rotated his shoulders, the blonde felt the bites and quickly brought his hair forward to cover them. It would be a disaster to reveal them.

I need to change into a turtleneck, he thought and turned toward the building.

His smile was small but happy. He’d grown up here and loved the space as a reminder of a time when he felt safe and cherished. Studying it, he could acknowledge that it would always feel like a haven to him, but only from the outside world. There were expectations here that he still struggled with and resisted submitting to.

Only his apartment felt like a true sanctuary to him now, without exceptions or rules from internal or external sources. His smile broadened. Only his apartment was a space where he could truly be himself, and now, there were people he could share that with. People he loved and felt known by.

It was a short walk to his quarters and pleasant enough. There were faces of people he’d known for years and objects that he remembered seeing when he was several feet shorter. From Sergei, the butler, he found out that Sypha was swimming and Trevor was exploring the grounds. 

As he shut the door to his suites, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was something of a relief to just be by himself for a moment. Opening his eyes, he saw the blinking digital messenger. 

It was ingrained in him to check it immediately. When he was a child, this was how his parents left him messages and instructions. Essentially a glorified answering machine, the family still used it in place of cell phones from time to time. 

He pressed in the code and heard that there was one message waiting. His mother’s voice poured into the room, warm and happy. His smile returned.

“Hello and welcome to all of you! I apologize that Vlad and I are scheduled in meetings for the afternoon but I am happy to tell you that we packed Friday in order to clear the decks for tonight and tomorrow!” There was the sound of papers shuffling and a pen scribbling. 

Lisa continued, “Sadly, Vlad has meetings on Sunday, and I will have to disappear for a couple of hours on Saturday morning to go into town, but otherwise we are very much looking forward to catching up and meeting Mr. Belmont!”

There was a murmur that Adrian recognized as Catherine’s voice, his mother’s assistant. “Yes, thank you Catherine. Sorry! Where was I? Ah, yes!” 

“Beside the machine, Eva should have left a number of invitations we’ve received to events scheduled for this weekend. We were thinking that it might be fun to attend something, only if you would like to, of course. Have a glance and see if something catches your eye. I’m afraid that I only had the chance to discuss this with Vlad this morning and didn’t warn you to bring something fancy.” 

She paused and then laughed, “So you know what that means, Sypha! Time to call Saint! My treat, if you please; I so want to pick something out with you!”

Adrian grinned. His mother loved to shop with Sypha. The women shared similar taste, although dressed as differently as you could imagine. They were spot on with each other’s style though and had great fun together. 

“This offer extends to Mr. Belmont as well, of course. I am sure that Saint could find something for him. I should be done with my meetings in time for supper. Vlad will join us after the second course. Please, enjoy yourselves and welcome again—I am so thrilled you are here.”

Adrian stored the message so he could play it for Sypha and Trevor. Saint would be thrilled, and probably bring half the damn store. Adrian hadn’t missed the man’s eyeball on Trevor. It’d been amusing, and just a touch irritating. 

Saint didn’t mean anything by it, the blonde thought. Trevor is gorgeous and it’s perfectly reasonable that he would admire him. He has great taste, after all, those boots were Oh lord have mercy, the boots.

Pure, unadulterated lust pounded in time with his headache. Those had not been the boots he’d thought Trevor wanted. He’d imagined a nice pair of equestrian boots or perhaps some leather knee-high combat boots. 

The thigh highs in black leather and elegant flared heels? Those ridiculous shorts with the gold stripes? Adrian wheezed. Fucking hell, that was something out of a dream I never knew I needed. 

For whatever reason, he’d simply never thought of Trevor—strong, muscular, overwhelmingly masculine Trevor—as the type to wear heels. 

But he hadn’t just worn them, he thought with a groan. He worked them. Teaches me never to assume anything.

It had taken everything in Adrian not to go join Sypha on the couch and spank that ass within an inch of Belmont’s life. It had done things to the blonde to see him like that. 

It was something of a shock to think he might take great pleasure in feeling those boots wrapped around his hips. The painter had certainly thought about what it might be like someday to have Trevor under him, but this had been an immediate, visceral need to stake his claim.

You learn something new everyday, he reflected with a wry twist of his lips. Trevor wasn’t the only possessive one.

It was a fire in his blood to try out the situation in Sypha’s drawing at the earliest opportunity. The idea of being taken by both his lovers at once? Leather warmed by pressing into his skin? To be tied down and used?

He shuddered with anticipation.

This excited desire was entirely Sypha’s fault and he had to remember to thank her for it. Multiple times and as thoroughly as possible. These thoughts did nothing to calm his semi-aroused state. He started to imagine Sypha in leather as well, and decided that a cold shower might help with his headache and his arousal. 

The painter moved toward his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and working it off his arms.

When Adrian passed the guest room, he saw Sypha’s bags and paused. The blonde hadn’t had the chance to speak to his lovers about whether they would be comfortable sharing his bed here, in his parents home. This was an answer to that question and he felt crystalline frost creep into his heart. 

No one would come in these suites without Adrian’s express permission, which is why he’d thought—

It was for the best, he told himself, shaking it off. When he entered his room he tried to ignore how huge and lonely the bed seemed and finished stripping.  

told them we had to pretend, he thought. I told them that we couldn’t let anyone know. We can’t. 

The thought just made him more unhappy and he padded over to the bathroom across the hall. He could have used his own shower but this was a small way to be close to them. Sypha’s toiletry bag made him smile and he traced his fingertips over the silly crocodiles and rainbows pattern.

When he saw himself in the mirror, he stared. The bruising from the bites had spread significantly. I will have to wear high necked shirts for weeks, he thought with dismay. 

The blonde touched the one over his collarbone and the sweet ache made him moan. I would wear a damned paper sack for the next month to feel this, he acknowledged. 

It was pure heaven to immediately recall what it felt like to be devoured, possessed and claimed when he touched the mark. It took the painter right back into the heart of Trevor’s desperate need for him all over again. 

I don’t know what I became in that moment, he remembered, thinking of his whimpered pleas and wanton words. 

You are devastating me, he reflected, how true those words were.

I haven’t spoken Romanian in months, he thought. The last time had been supper here at the family home. Vlad liked to have meals in Romanian for the practice. He said that it kept Adrian grounded in the mother tongue. The painter didn’t mind really; it was a pretty language and he didn’t use it otherwise, except for the occasional interview or public engagement.

But using it with Trevor, to confess his love to him; there was something about that that was terrifying. It bridged his past with his future in a measurable link that felt like it had consequences yet unknown. Finding no answers in his reflection, he turned from the mirror and turned the shower on.

Cold water poured down and Adrian warmed it slightly before stepping in. He hissed with unhappiness and decided that he wasn’t worried about being aroused enough to warrant this misery. He turned it up to warm and sighed happily.

Soaping briskly, he thought about going to find his lovers and see what they were doing. Mention his mother’s invitation and make some decisions, maybe sneak a kiss or a quick—. No, he thought and closed his eyes. 

It wasn’t fair to either of them to tell them they couldn’t touch him and then tease them by doing it himself. For the first time he acknowledged just how difficult this really was. 

He’d known that it would be; it made him just as unhappy as Trevor and he’d been grateful that Sypha was content to go along with it. He couldn’t handle adding her unhappiness in there as well.

The speed with which he’d become accustomed to touching them was staggering. Reaching for Sypha’s hand, smacking Trevor’s ass, a casual kiss, flirtatious glance. Hell, even the morning goodbyes would be missed. 

He grinned. Trevor had started it. They’d been headed out the door the second morning and the sculptor had whirled abruptly, held out his arms, and exclaimed, “We fucking forgot!” 

Sypha and Adrian had blinked and the brunette launched himself at them, enveloping them in a ridiculous sprawl of a hug. 

“Get used to it,” Belmont had crowed, while his lovers grumbled and laughed. “Every morning now; I want my fucking hugs and kisses!”

With pain, Adrian realized that it had been only a few days and he knew he needed that exuberant embrace to start his days for the rest of his life. The idea of foregoing it was like waiting all day for someone to remember it was your birthday, but no one did. 

It’s just for the weekend, he told himself. Maybe we can compromise a bit, touch when no one is looking. Just here in the suite.

After all, he’d already set the precedence of privacy in his personal quarters years ago. No one would dare enter it while he was in residence. Well, his father might knock until someone showed up, but that would be it. 

I will pull the curtains, Adrian decided, and I will lock the doors. That would do the trick. He didn’t normally, but he could use the excuse of his guests; if anyone even noticed.

Happier now, an acceptable compromise reached in his own mind, the painter shut off the shower and resolved to ask his lovers to move into his room with him. The blonde would be damned if he’d spend his nights alone too. Adrian wrapped his towel around his waist and went back to his bedroom. 

In his personal bathroom, he set about detangling his hair, completed his skin care routine and opted to tie his hair up rather than blow-dry. He’d pulled on his black briefs when he heard the suite door open and froze. 

Who would —, he thought, and then he heard Sypha singing to herself. Adrian grinned. He stepped into the hall to greet her and heard the words.

“Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto thee,” she murmured and his smile fell away. The painter knew something was seriously worrying her if she was singing a hymn. 

He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong and she stepped into the hallway. Eyes on the floor, she moved with unselfconscious grace. Her body was one long, creamy contour; a gorgeous mix of soft and firm. 

The bikini top was already falling away as she stripped, and her gracious breasts swayed gently. Soft pink nipples pebbled in the cool air and flirted with his gaze. Salt water rolled down her long, strong legs and the band of her bikini bottoms pressed into the lovely curves of her hips and belly. 

His greeting merged into a quiet exhale, a gentle southern wind of desire that pressed warmly against her skin. “Sypha,” he murmured as he fell into the easy pleasure of his love for her. 

She startled, head swiftly rising and body freezing like a doe searching the wood. Her face was vulnerable, aware and then she smiled. 

“Hello there,” she said softly. “I like your outfit.”

“Yours is better,” he said thickly, already imagining what the salt on her skin might taste like. “Although, frankly, you could wear a plastic bag and still look beautiful.”

She snorted; smile gentle and playful. “I think you are thinking of yourself,” she said, starting toward him again.

“No, my lovely one,” he said seriously, wishing for just a moment that she could glimpse herself through his eyes. “You are stunning.” 

She paused at his words, blinking, and he watched a droplet of water descend the contour of her bicep to nestle into the fragile skin of her elbow. Her pulse pounded there and he felt it’s throb twin with his own. 

“Adrian,” she said softly, “I know what I look like. You don’t have to—“

He stepped forward, suddenly sure of himself and what he wanted to do. “Ah, but you see, I do. I do have to, because there is no other response when I see you. I love you and there are an infinite number of ways for me to show you that.” 

The painter stepped forward again, watching the humour in her face fade and be replaced with a sweet anticipation that he could taste in the air between them.

Deliberately, he closed the distance until he could reach out and touch her. When his palm cupped the side of her face, she leaned into his hand and sighed. 

“I want to show you each and every way that I love you,” he told her. “Words are an important part of it.”

“I am grateful you think that, when you look at me,” she said, blue horizons over still waters meeting his eyes. “I feel lucky to be with you.” 

She reached up to cup his wrist as he held her face.

“Sypha, my love, you are a gift. If anyone is lucky it is me.” 

He bent his head and ghosted his lips over hers. She tasted like the afternoon shade from the relentless sun; faint traces of the saltwater layered over her natural, rich scent. The tips of his fingers meandered into her wet hair and he licked over the fullness of her bottom lip.

“Adrian,” she murmured against him and splayed her hand on his chest. 

She is everything, his heart whispered to him. Tenderness was feathers on the wings of desire and he wanted to fly with her. This woman understood him to his bones. When he was with her there was no questioning, no doubt and no fear. She loved him and he trusted that with everything inside of him. 

Her hand trailed up his arm to find his cheek, and stroked gently. “Come to bed with me,” he asked her and felt her lips curve against his. “Let me love you.”

“There is nothing I want more,” she rasped against his mouth. “I love you so much, Adrian.” 

I know it, he thought, humbled all over again that she would choose him. I want to feel it inside of you.

He trailed his fingers down the curving give of her spine, feeling her resilient muscles quiver and filled his hands with the generous flesh of her ass. When he lifted her, she gasped and pressed into him. The wetness of her bathing suit was an arousing contradiction of heat and cool. It scraped against his willpower to take it slow and savour her. 

Her lips firmed against his and moved with eager urgency. When they shivered together, he licked into her mouth and groaned. 

“I want you inside of me,” she whimpered and the smouldering heat in his belly waltzed out into his limbs like falling petals. With an agreeable murmur, he carried her down the hallway and into his bedroom. 

Her yielding softness stopped him from throwing her down on the bed. Instead, he eased her down and untangled himself from her. Her face was confused for a moment and then cleared as he drew the curtains and turned on the lamp. When he turned back to her, she grinned wickedly. 

“Don’t forget your underwear,” she said sassily. 

Her hands moved down to the band of her bikini and a wonderful idea came to him. 

“Wait, Sypha,” he said and she stilled. 

He leaned down and ran a fingertip down her cheek, across her throat, between her breasts and dipped over her belly button. She arched into him; open, welcoming, and willing. 

“Would you please do something for me?” he asked quietly and her face gentled so sweetly that his lust revved down and his heart dipped back into that tender place of reverence.

“I would do anything for you, Adrian. You have only to ask.” Wickedness came into her grin. “If it’s sexual, you don’t need to ask; just fuck me.” 

It was a joke but he knew she meant it. She’d been very clear about her sexual preferences and it’d been a blessing to him. 

The painter liked having the guidelines because he knew that anything inside of them would be welcome. He could touch her and know it would be what she wanted, what she deserved. The blonde could be with her without fear of her disappointment.

Let me show you, he thought, what you mean to me.  

“Would you let me,” he swallowed over the nerves, “tell you how to touch yourself?” It sounded so strange when he said it out loud, but he needed to be able to guide this, to show her.

Sypha’s eyebrows arched and then she grinned saucily. “Oh wow, I love that you want to instruct me. Tell me, lover, do you want me to call you ‘teacher’?”

It was a sudden, provocative and alluring idea. I never considered that, he thought, but she actually just hit upon how I am going to do this without blushing. 

“Not this time Sypha, but I will definitely stow that idea for later because it is hot as hell.” 

“Let’s just say, I have been imagining you telling me to earn my grade for a while now.” She wiggled invitingly and Adrian had to bite the side of his cheek. 

Focus here, he thought and took a steadying breath. 

“Why don’t you get comfortable,” he suggested, gesturing to the pillows at the head of the bed and once again she looked puzzled. 

He knew that Sypha was used to speed; used to coming quickly and hard. But he also knew from his experience the first time that he had touched her, that her capacity for pleasure was vast and had surprised even her. 

There was a generosity there that she denied herself, he thought. It made him sad in a way. She was so assertive and confident but there were little pockets where you could see her push her own needs aside in favour of caring for others. 

Let me take care of you, he asked silently. Let me show you that you deserve to be worshipped. 

She removed her bikini bottoms and moved to the pillows, settlinginto them. Half sitting, half lying down, she was a queen in recline. Spreading her legs, she arched a brow to him and waited. 

How would you touch her? he thought and then opened his mental portfolio of instructional techniques.

The blonde sat in the armchair at the end of the bed and settled in. Sypha opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. 

“Close your eyes,” he told her. She grinned and closed them. “Take a deep breath and listen to your exhale.” 

He could see her do it and the tiniest relaxation of her limbs. He repeated the request three times, until her hands were lax on her belly. 

“Touch your cheek,” he asked her, and watched her respond like it was a game of ‘Simon Says.’ 

No, with love, he thought and immediately clarified. 

“Touch your cheek like you would touch mine.” Her hand gentled, stroked. “Perfect, thank you.” Her smile was quick, but less certain. 

“Keeping that type of touch, I want you to slowly caress your eyebrows.” She did, tracing them with a questing fingertip. “Over your eyes,” she paused on her eyelid, brushing the eyelashes, “and now your mouth.” 

Two fingertips pressed into the full bottom lip and parted them.

“Feel how soft they are, how abundantly giving,” he murmured, observing the small crease that formed between her brows. 

She doesn’t understand, he acknowledged, but prayed that she would by the end. 

“There’s that smooth corner at the very edge; it’s kissable, tender, stunning.” Her fingertip found it, minuscule movements that made him ache to taste that patch of skin with his tongue. 

Would I taste her love there? The blonde wondered, and felt certain he would.

“That spot, I could spend hours just there,” he told her. “It’s a tiny sliver of everything you are, a perfect diamond in the gemstone mine of Sypha.” 

She swallowed hard and her eyebrows knit in a yearning plea. When her hips shifted, he knew she had started the journey of becoming lost in her own flesh. 

“Lick your fingertips,” he asked her and the tiniest peek of pink winked out. 

“Adore the cleverness of your tongue. It gives so much—pleasure, comfort, love,” he watched her feather the pads of her fingers against her teeth, “both words and deeds of immense joy are possible because of it.”

“Slide your hand down your throat; can you feel the pulse under your palm?” The redhead’s hand moved down, a firm press against the vulnerable column. She nodded slowly. 

“Feel your pulse jump with desire, knowing that you will have everything I want to give you before this is through. You will know your own beauty under your fingertips, see your body through my words. I would give you this because I love you.”

A tiny moan escaped her and her free hand clutched the covers in a spasm. His answering clench was instinctive, and made his breath hitch. 

This was like capturing a butterfly. You had to be clever, fast, distracting but above all, so very gentle. There would be no damage to her colourful delicacy. As much as he wanted to hold her, it was more important to him to see her fly with assurance when the moment was over.

“Squeeze, just a little,” the painter told her and watched her fingertips dig into her throat. His own hand clenched reflexively. There were only a few times Adrian had felt her throat in his hand, but he knew it was a heady and powerful thing to feel against his skin. 

Sypha’s body tensed and then went utterly pliant. Shapely legs curved naturally and her nipples peaked. The blonde bit his tongue and gritted his teeth, quiet for a moment before he spoke. When his voice slipped out into the room once more, it quaked with quiet devotion.

“Trace your collarbone, feel the strength and the exquisite shape of it.” Delicate steps of her fingers along the bone had him mimicking the movement on his own skin. “It’s like the arch of a sapling reaching toward the sky, holding limitless potential inside of it.”

When he told her to cup her breast, her response was entranced. There was no guile, no coyness and no teasing now. Her movements were devout, intent and deferential. 

“Feel the soft weight, like holding a rain cloud? It’s the most fragile, pliant, stunning thing in the world and it’s your own flesh.” She shuddered and brought her other hand up to cup the opposite breast. 

Yes, he thought instantly, you are feeling my words inside yourself now.

“The warmth of your skin and that flawless crease under your breast is a soft retreat from the world. I would rest my head there for eternity and listen to your heartbeat.” Her fingers stroked lazily, thoughtfully. 

Adrian could feel her skin on the pads of his fingers. “I can smell you there; rich, warm, like the sunlight on freshly tilled earth. That smell is home to me. My heart hides there.”

Her murmur was pleading, peaceful assent, lips parted with yearning and body poised. “Lightly, like I was kissing them, brush your nipples.” 

She sighed into her own touch and stretched like a waking cat caught in a sunbeam. He fancied that she was sinking into the covers and imagining they were his touch.

I don’t want this to end. It was a greedy, selfish animal inside of himself. She is caught in it now, comfortable inside her own skin. She would do anything I asked her to and have faith that it was right.  

It was intoxicating to be trusted like this. It was captivating to witness and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this sooner. 

I wish Trevor could see it, he reflected and then smiled. They would just have to repeat this sometime. 

“Do it again please; feel your skin heat with desire and give it back to yourself. My mouth against your breast.” She gasped, arched, whimpered. 

God have mercy, he thought, as he strained to stay calm. You are stunning. 

“Your pleasure is all there; you deserve to feel it in every stroke.” Her face was the shimmer of sunlight on leaves, glittering, alive, ethereal. Bewitched, he held his breath.

“Adrian,” she moaned and he smiled softly.

“Sypha,” he corrected gently. “You are doing this; you are giving yourself this. Give yourself more.” When she didn’t argue but rolled her nipples between thumb and finger with a keening whimper; he swallowed hard against triumph, love and lust. 

That’s it, darling, feel your own glory and allow it to smother you in adoration. 

His own desire was a caught bird in his throat, beating furiously against the confines of his own tissue. The painter shuddered with her, aware he was perched on the edge of his seat, fingers biting into his thighs as he worked to keep his voice even and light. 

There was no way he wanted to break the spell. Seeing Sypha immerse herself in her own divinity was everything he could have wanted. 

When her breath caught, he spoke again, “Firmer now; touch your ribs. Feel each one, like clasping roots that hold your heart. They are strong, open; they cover a place of rest and peace for anyone you invite into your life.” 

Like a child taking the steps for the first time, she tiptoed delicately down them.

“There is skin so soft it’s like kissing your eyelids, right under the last rib.” He sighed with longing. “Your whole belly is like that, a warm kiss against my body when I embrace you.”

“Adrian, please,” Sypha murmured beseechingly. “I want you to—“

“I know, love, and I will,” he interrupted, his murmur dripping devotion in tiny wringing bursts. “Be my hands for me, just a while longer.”

She curved into her own palms and moaned. “There is that tiny scar above your belly button from your piercing,” he watched the ligaments in her hand move like pipe organ pedals as she travelled down. “I’ve always loved it. Two tiny moons, orbiting each other.”

When her index finger walked the edge of her belly button, he resisted his oath. He was thinking about tracing a similar pattern over sensitive, slick, firm flesh and he was sure she was too. Instead, he scraped fingernails over his thigh and practiced the breathing techniques from his yoga.

“Cup your hips and squeeze gently,” he said. Adrian didn’t try to hide his groan when she pressed her fingertips into the ample flesh and bucked up helplessly; her breasts rolling, throat a long plea of desire.

“Yes love, just like that, just how I would hold you as you moved under my mouth.” His voice was rough and urgent, lost in her discovery. “I love it; how your body begs without any need for words. How generous you are with your desire, giving me everything I could ever dream of in the dance of your limbs.”

Sypha’s breath was gasps now, uneven puffs of necessity that raced toward fulfillment. But her hands stayed where he’d directed them. Adrian smiled. 

I am here love. I won’t leave you wanting, he thought.

“The skin on the inside of your thighs, can you feel it?” He watched her hands make a vee that framed the apex of her thighs. “I’m at a loss to tell you how soft it is. Only that it feels like moonlight under my hands—patient, mysterious, giving, embracing.”

She stroked down, wonder on her face, eyebrows knit in a vulnerable plea. “Do you know, the first time I touched the heart of you, I couldn’t believe how delicate you were.” He watched her cup herself, the quick snap of her hips an ancient welcome of carnality against her open palm. 

His desire was a steady throb in the back of his throat. To taste, to touch, to unite; he wanted it. But Sypha’s pleasure was paramount. She deserved to be put first and he would give that to her. If she would let him.

“I couldn’t believe how incredibly giving your flesh was. It was like you’d taken your love for me and manifested it into a liquid embrace.” His laugh was harsher than he would have liked and he let it taper off. “I suppose that is exactly what you did. It was a full immersion into heaven. It was gorgeous.”

“Adrian, touch me,” Sypha said, voice husky with need and desire. “I’m ready and I want you.” Her body shifted restlessly and her eyes found his. Blooming bolts of color, like sunlight through midnight-blue stained glass; there were falling angels plummeting from them. 

I am touching you, he thought and smiled. 

There would be no race to the finish here. It might have been different if her pleasure was not so abundantly clear to him. The movement of her limbs, the taut nipples, the faint liquid sound when she arched--she was caught in passion now and he knew it.

“Ah, but love, there is nothing but time here,” he said soothingly. “There is no rush and no need for you to do anything but be pleasured.”

Her eyes dropped to his obvious arousal. “But you want me,” she murmured. “You are just as ready.”

“Of course I do; I ache for you. But seeing you like this? Lost in your own flesh, appreciating your body through my words? This is everything, this is pleasure. You are divine, Sypha, and your skin is a bridge between my heart and yours.”

She laughed but it wasn’t filled with humor; it was filled with wondering wistfulness. “I don’t know how you see that in me, but I am grateful for it. Humbled by it and inconceivably aroused by it. I just don’t want you to--”

“I am as pleasured as you by this. And speaking of pleasure, please close your eyes and take a deep breath.” Now she laughed with easy amusement. 

Don’t think about it, he silently urged her, allow yourself to fall back into it. He regretted the interruption but it couldn’t be helped. With luck, she would return to that pliant state of bliss and let her worry fall away.

She closed her eyes and breathed. He let it draw out and lingered, watching the tension in her muscles lesson. 

“You are beautiful; I want you to feel what I see, inside of yourself.” He heard the wish in his voice; the honesty and need. “You have wings, Sypha, and I love seeing you use them.”

“Yes,” she murmured to him, a sigh, a prayer, an ask. “I would give them to you.”

“Now, bring your fingertips to your lips and kiss them--gentle now, so gentle.” He watched her obey, feather light kisses to each one.

“Draw them down your body, light, easy--my mouth is following your hands--show me, love. Show me where my mouth should go.” Sypha’s exhale was a cresting excitement but her hands stayed tender. They journeyed over her breasts, down the cradle of her hips and over the smouldering ember curls at the join of her thighs.

When her fingers slipped between the part of her lips, they moaned together. She arched wantonly and spread her legs further. He could see her fingers move in measured strokes and Adrian swallowed hard. He could practically taste her on his tongue; heated passion and feminine secrets.

“There is a sanctuary inside of you, a welcome like no other.” Her jaw worked. “It is a pilgrimage of adoration to pleasure you, to place my mouth on you, and pray for the rapture,” he told her. 

“Adrian,” she said, breath harsh and eyelids fluttering. “I feel like you are touching me with your words, like they are hands on my body.”

The painter smiled. “That’s because they are, love.” He thought she might laugh; he thought she might swear. But she didn’t.

“Of course they are,” she murmured quietly, the last syllable caught on a moan and a slick crinkle of sound.

Sypha, he thought as his whole body stiffened in response to the tiny song of lust.

Her thighs trembled and her fingers moved steadily. Miniscule shudders worked over her belly, tides of passion steadily moving in time with the moon that was her hand.

“Your body speaks a language that whispers poetry to mine.” Adrian said. “I can read it and I can hear it. I can write it on your skin and speak it against your lips. The trace of a fingertip, the brush of my mouth, the edge of my teeth. These are sonnets of desire, longing,” Sypha shuddered, “and love.”

One hand found her nipple and her legs drew up. Her mouth parted and the gasps were becoming ragged now. The restless twisting of her limbs as they sought blossoming euphoria had him without words. 

For a moment he closed his eyes and remembered what it was like to be deep inside of her. Remembered the feel of her climax; like an earthquake bridging the flesh between them. “Don’t rush it Sypha; let yourself sink into it like honey into tea. I want it for you; that sweet, hot rise and slide. It’s a falling star, and when it lands, it will explode inside of you in a plume of golden light.”

“I feel it now,” she sobbed out. “Like a balloon pressing against my skin from the inside, a tickle at the base of my spine.”

Yes, Adrian thought and fisted his hands together. It wouldn’t be long now; her climax hung between them like steam in the air.

He hadn’t lied to her. He wanted her desperately, but this was just as pleasurable as finding his own release. 

In some ways moreso, the blonde thought. I will never forget what it was to see her like this. To know that I could give this to her.

“Stroke a little firmer now, my gorgeous one.” She arched into her hand, skin flushed and dewy; breasts rising with her gasps. If only you could see yourself, with stars caught under your skin and shining in every bead of sweat.

“Adrian. Adrian. Oh, Adrian,” she panted, heels pushed into the coverlet, muscles clenching in her belly and legs. “I, yes, oh my God…!” The shaking was taking over her now, her eyes closed, lower lip caught between teeth and body moving with its own need.

“Give it to both of us, Sypha. Let me see you fly, let my words carry you.” It was a velvet command but the weight of it was the final caress.

With a fractured whimper, the redhead arched one last time and bucked rhythmically against her fingertips. He measured it in the lick of her tongue against the top of her lip, the gentle curl of her toes, the tendons that stood out in her thigh, and knew when she was floating. 

He wasn’t ready for her to stop flying, even as her hands fell away from her body like a cliffside plunging into the sea. “Exquisite,” he murmured and stood quietly. She lay on the bed; chest heaving, eyes closed, legs splayed. When he cupped the softness of her inner thighs she startled, but his mouth was already on her.

“Adrian! Oh! You--!” Her fingers thrust into his hair and he groaned against the flushed, wet heat on his tongue.

I belong here, he thought. I would stay here forever, if I could. It was no secret in the trio that he loved to be on his knees. It was primitive in a way--a means to express his devotion in service to them. He’d known that he liked to please, and that he liked to take care of those he loved.

But what the blonde hadn’t expected and what he was still understanding about himself, was the rush of power it gave him. The painter loved it. It was unbelievably intoxicating to be like this; knowing that they liked it, knowing he was good at it, knowing they watched him, and were pleasured by watching him as much as they were by what he was doing. 

Adrian never sought power out in his life, having been born into more than he cared to have. But this was different. This was the security of shared passion, an expression of profound love, and the promise of a lifetime together. 

This was power that came from inside him, and was based solely on the depth of love they all shared. Adrian could give the fruits of this power to his lovers without strings or fear.

The painter could taste it in Sypha--these shared flavors of the moment and the future. This was power that was joint; held and grown within the trio. When he was here, worshipping, offering, adoring; the power was deep, strong and true.

Her fingers dug into his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp while her hips rose in an undeniable plea. She was whispering his name now, as though it was a meditation of enlightenment to unlock secrets of the universe.

When he suckled gently, her gasp was a threshold of emotion so immense that it plummeted inside him like two birds of prey locked together in a falling sky. I love you, he thought. Beyond anything I can ever express and anything I could ever offer. Know this now and feel the wealth of you inside every niche and alcove of your being.

He stroked up her belly, feeling the trembles of her muscles straining toward passionate oblivion. When he cupped the underside of her breast, he thought, soft as a raincloud.

“Adrian,” she moaned and curved into him, a slow, slick slide over his mouth accentuated by shaking limbs and caught breath. It was a fast climb for her now, he could tell in the way she pressed him closer, the heel that dug into his back, the nipple rigid against his palm.

Yes love. Explode, he thought. I am here and I will hold you through it.

With his fingers and tongue he decorated her with love in firm strokes; coaxing her to dive back into the beckoning bliss. 

“Yes. Oh yes, just like that. Oh, I love this, I love you, I--” and she went rigid, fisting her hands in his hair, arching and urging him as close as she could. It was beautiful. Caught in her limbs as they quaked around him, feeling her response to his attentions, he ached for her and had never felt more fulfilled.

She held onto him tightly and they stayed locked together, heartbeats pacing each other as the dance of her climax worked intricate steps onto his heart. When her body finally went pliant and her limbs fell away again, he was so full of love it pulsed inside him like a second heartbeat.

Adrian drew up alongside her and gathered her in his arms. “Beloved,” he murmured and she sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and he smiled. He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t understand but there was nothing to regret here and nothing missing for him. 

“I am not,” he said, “this is exactly what I wanted. Everything I needed. I love you." He kissed her eyelids tenderly and murmured, "Rest now.”

---

No words to say

No words to convey

This feeling inside I have for you

Deep in my heart

Safe from the guards

Of intellect and reason

Leaving me at a loss

For words to express my feelings

Deep in my heart

-“For You,” Tracy Chapman

Notes:

*Holds them gently and sobs quietly*

---
Adrian model-Erik Andersson, Sypha picture from Erik Mclean (Pexals), painting background from Anna Roenkae (Pexals).

---
Special thanks to armouredescort for edits, suggestions and listening to me whine about how there are no uncheesy 80's love songs.

Chapter 35: Now they see what will be

Summary:

What was Sypha doing ? He wondered. She hadn’t responded and Adrian must still be sleeping. 

He stuck his head into the stable and immediately registered that it was empty. Looking around he saw no one and heard no one. Trevor decided to risk it. After all, Lady Tepes might have already told everyone he was here, and he was worried about nothing. 

If anyone showed up he could just… And he saw it.

He hadn’t seen a bullwhip in over five years. Loss climbed over his defenses and spread out within him like a suffocating oil spill. It happened so quickly that it took his breath away. It was peeling his composure like a carrot under a knife and he bled out without even realizing it. 

Notes:

CW: Reference of non-con at the very end, no explicit examples. You are good to read up to: "When the artist rose that evening..."

Badly Chapter 35

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The wolves weren’t leaving him. They kept pace as silent sentinels, and didn’t even fall back when the sculptor approached the horses again. It was both comforting and disconcerting. Trevor had never seen dogs like this; they were huge, gorgeous and slightly alarming. 

Fortunately the horses seemed to recognize them and didn’t startle when the wolves sleekly fell into step with the herd. There was something wild and stunning about watching the animals move together in timeless harmony.

Trevor didn’t try to ride again, even as he desperately yearned for it.

Having had that recklessly wonderful moment to himself, he wanted it again. But I don’t want to fuck up more than I have, he thought unhappily. 

Practically trampling Adrian’s mother hadn’t been on his to do list today and greeting her from his ass in a hedge was not an ideal start. On the other hand, she seemed amused, so maybe he'd gotten incredibly lucky. 

If she didn’t think he was a complete assclown after that he would consider himself fortunate. Now he just needed to swallow the blow to his pride. 

He’d hoped to at least be able to meet the Tepes’ on equal ground. All morning Trevor had told himself it didn’t matter; he was who he was and he had nothing to be ashamed of. It had sort of worked, simply because it was something that the brunette told himself every day since the scandal. 

Since the conversation in the limo with Adrian, however, the sculptor had been absorbing who his lover was to the public and how the world thought it owned a part of the blonde--a part that Trevor couldn’t have. 

There had been cracks shifting into the core of his pride and his internal landscape was reconfiguring. Lady Tepes was a landmark right in the middle of that conflict for him; a gatekeeper into a world that Trevor despised for its impact on his relationship with Adrian.

Worse, far worse though, was the understanding that there might very well be no compromise to be had on this matter. It was entirely conceivable that Trevor would have to continue to live this part of his life in secret. 

I don’t know if I can, he thought, the agony of his predicament blurring his gaze as he kept pace with the herd down the rolling hill. He watched the wolves dart into the treeline. It’s not in me to live leashed in such a huge way.

Coming here was a mistake, he thought. You don’t belong here and you don’t want to watch Adrian lie in every restrained movement and careful word. You don’t even know if you can lie convincingly enough to be believed, and you can’t make the choice for Adrian to tell his parents.

He remembered Lady Tepes’ piercing blue eyes and shook his head. Adrian was fooling himself if he thought she wouldn’t see it; there was no hiding anything from her, he thought ruefully. 

Anyone could see her intelligence and intuition were keen. Belmont knew he should probably be more concerned about that fact even as the image of Adrian's mother took form in his mind.

The sculptor had known it was her right away. He could instantly see where his lover’s beauty and poise came from. The regal shape of her face, fair colouring, elegant grace and cool gaze--even her grin--it all echoed the painter to him in the sweetest kiss on Trevor’s heart.

She grinned at you. A small smile formed on Belmont’s lips. I didn’t imagine that, he reflected as he absently broke into a jog to follow the horses. The herd was headed into an open pasture that had a tidy stable tucked into the corner. 

There had been warmth in Adrian’s mother’s demeanor and a genuine pleasure in her gaze. It surprised him, thinking about it now, to realize that he might have been wrong about her. 

He’d thought she was likely cold and withdrawn given how anxious Adrian was about acceptance and approval. Lady Tepes had been anything but and it made Trevor wonder. It was hard to reconcile those fucking status reports that Adrian had shown him with a woman so lovely. 

I can’t disappoint those I love, the sculptor heard again in Adrian’s pleading tones. 

Where did that come from? That deep-rooted belief of inadequacy? His shame and certainty he was a failure?  

Trevor shook his head, slowing as he approached the stable. You of all people know that understanding such things is complicated and almost impossible to accurately pinpoint beyond a doubt, he acknowledged. 

He paused outside the door of the stable, considering. 

Grabbing his phone, he texted Sypha and Adrian: “Do you think it’s cool if I go in the stables? Thinking I might saddle up a horse? ”  

He didn’t want anyone thinking he was breaking and entering. Waiting for a response, he looked at the herd again. He wanted to saddle up the golden boy so badly but that horse was worth more than Trevor could imagine. 

If anything happened…

Better to take one of Friesians, he thought. He would have taken the Arabian, but he thought she might want a break from the wolves--she’d stayed on the far side of the herd. Thinking about it, he put his hand on the stable door and pulled. It slid open with a rumble and he paused, checking his phone. 

What was Sypha doing ? He wondered. She hadn’t responded and Adrian must still be sleeping. 

He stuck his head into the stable and immediately registered that it was empty. Looking around he saw no one and heard no one. Trevor decided to risk it. After all, Lady Tepes might have already told everyone he was here, and he was worried about nothing. 

If anyone showed up he could just… and he saw it.

He hadn’t seen a bullwhip in over five years. Loss climbed over his defenses and spread out within him like a suffocating oil spill. It happened so quickly that it took his breath away. It was peeling his composure like a carrot under a knife and he bled out without even realizing it. 

Learning how to use a whip alongside his father. Braiding his first whips’ thong and Dominic attaching the handle. The sound of the cracker as it boomed out. 

The second time he competed in the Calgary Stampede, he’d won a silver medal and Penelope had put it on the mantle under the Brieling painting. His father had been so excited that he’d called up the whole family at 10 o’clock at night. 

It was painful to remember the joy and pride in his parents. It had meant so much to Trevor to have that approval. He remembered thinking then, that if only they could be like this for his sculptures…

It doesn’t matter now, he told himself ruthlessly. They are dead and there will be no more approval--for sculpture or whipcracking competitions. 

He approached the whip and closed his eyes. This close he could smell the leather and the oil. The backs of his eyelids only brought the face of his father and before he could stop himself, the brunette fell into the memory.

“Easy Trev,” Dominic’s smile was coaxing. “Remember, move the wrist naturally, let it flow.” 

His father was still taller than him at that point, a solid, warm presence of hope and love in his life. The neatly trimmed beard and side swept hair in the same dark tones as his son. Green eyes winked with good humor and encouragement.

The thirteen year old narrowed his blue eyes and tried again. The three foot length snapped out and the tiniest ‘crack!’ snapped out between them. Trevor’s grin was huge and his father’s even wider. 

The elder Belmont whooped loudly and charged. Arms open, Dominic’s strength surrounded Trevor, the scent of his father’s cologne caught in the hollow of throat and bone. 

Versace’s Dylan Blue, he remembered with a sharp, raw tug in his belly. 

The man hefted him up in a bear hug. “You got it! That’s the ticket Trev, you’re the man!” 

The boy laughed, the world topsy turvy from the security of his father’s embrace as he was swung around. How safe and loved I had felt. 

“Nothing can stop you now!” his father crowed.

They’d kept practicing until Penelope came out and reminded Dominic that it was a school night. She’d clapped her hands and kissed her son’s head when he showed her his new skill. 

When she’d murmured, “You can do anything, my dearest,” into his hair, Trevor carried that with him for days. It carried him through the usual arguments about his clothing and his artwork and the tense moment over his comment about his asshole uncle.

The tear fell before he even realized. 

“I miss you both, so very much,” he whispered in the stillness of the building. The memory of his parents, their warmth, their fragrance: it faded away.

Dusty hay and horse were the only scents that remained now. 

Not the only one, he thought and touched the whip. The leather was an old friend, flexible and warming to his touch. 

“Just do your best, Trevor,” Penelope said, with a glance at his father. Belmont was impatient and he only nodded at his mother, tucking his rodeo shirt into his jeans. 

“You’ve been practicing and you know the routines,” she said in an encouraging voice. “You’ve nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.”

I wish, the teenager thought to himself. 

As if echoing his thoughts, his father said, “We’ll be in the stands; just look for us. We know you can win this.” 

Trevor still loved rodeos, still loved horses, still loved whip cracking, but the more that they argued about the teenager’s plans for college and his disinterest in BiG, the more his father acted like this was the only thing Trevor was good at. The more it became the only aspect of his son that he bothered to engage with.

The roar of the crowd drowned out his mother and Trevor shouted to be heard over it. “Sorry Mom, what?”

“We love you; good luck!” she shouted back with a smile, as his father led her away. Trevor waved absently, his other hand already reaching for his whip.

All those chances to tell them what they meant to me; to stop and really say it so she could see, he thought now as he stepped out of the memory and back into the present. 

I wasted it being angry because they only wanted the best for me. I couldn’t be what they wanted but I didn’t even try.

Trevor unhooked the whip and grasped the handle. It unfurled like a butterfly from a cocoon and the tip trailed into the dust.

It was a nice specimen, similar to what he’d had. Six feet long and braided over the handle, the thong was a spiral eight pattern in alternating hide colors--tan, burgundy and roan. There was an intricate cracker on the end, a pretty thing of fluttering strips.

His whip had been a deep chestnut braid, ten feet long, with an ebony handle wrapped in red leather and reinforced with the thinnest treated iron strips. It had been a gift from his father when he’d entered his first competition. He’d come in fifth that time and you would have thought he’d gotten a gold medal.

If only Papa’s enthusiasm had stayed that undemanding, he thought. 

Grasping the handle, he flicked his wrist. The length of leather twirled on the floor before rising up like a bird of prey scouring the sky. 

Some things you don’t forget, he thought, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Experimentally, Trevor ran through a basic, uncomplicated pattern that stayed below shoulder level, and found himself quietly laughing at how easily it came back to him. He switched to his other hand and tried the same pattern. 

He’d trained to be ambidextrous in his cracking and took great pride that at the height of his abilities, he was equally skilled in either hand and could wield two whips at once. The last two rotations and the sculptor’s wrist suddenly protested. The brunette cursed. 

Breaking his hand in that bout had affected his mobility and function in certain things. Apparently this was one of them. Physiotherapy would have been ideal but was completely unaffordable. 

“Fucking figures,” Belmont muttered. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, he told himself. It’s not like you would ever compete again.  

Once more, he was enormously grateful for the Tepes scholarship that he didn’t have to fight this year. Who knows what else might have been damaged if I had kept it up? He wondered.

Trevor looked around again and decided there should be enough space. The sculptor had shut the door behind him so the sound shouldn’t upset the horses. Stepping into the center aisle he looked up, noting the ceiling height and where the lights were. He should have plenty of clearance. 

“This is probably a bad idea,” he said with a huge grin and started in.

--- 

The email from his assistant, Andrei, popped up on his screen and Vlad clicked it. The chancellor was chirping on the handsfree about the plans for the 160th anniversary of the formation of Romania. Frankly Vlad was grateful for the distraction.

Sir, there was a minor security issue with the horses and Lady Tepes… 

Vlad picked up the phone. “Gregory, my apologies. I need a moment, please hold.” 

He muted and gave his full attention to the email. It wasn’t urgent or Andrei would have come into the room. All of his staff knew he was to be interrupted for any pressing matter with his family.

He started to read the message.

Approximately 15:00 hours Trevor Belmont exited the limo alone and approached the horses, who were headed to the southern pasture for their evening ride. He selected Luna and rode her bareback into the gardens.

Vlad’s eyebrows rose. 

That would take considerable skill and… wait, didn’t Dominic mention something about rodeos for the boy? He’d have to ask Trevor. Mindful of the waiting chancellor, he continued to read.

Security was considering intervening at that point, and then Lady Tepes exited her office with the dogs. Due to the standing instructions not to disturb her unless there was a clear and present danger, Daniel observed only. Belmont lept the garden walls with Luna and unfortunately selected a path that led him to encounter Lady Tepes under the dogwood arch.

Vlad inhaled sharply. Had Lisa been…?

The dogs frightened Luna, who threw Belmont. Luna is unharmed, as is Lady Tepes, and the dogs. Belmont was seen standing and walking away so it is assumed he is unharmed as well.

The elder Tepes relaxed minutely. So no lasting damage, he thought.  Still, this was utterly reckless and foolish; it smacked of poor self control. He frowned. Neither Dominic or Penelope had been rash people.

Lady Tepes texted to instruct the team to leave Belmont to his devices, however, the security cameras have picked him up in the stables apparently practicing with a weapon. Daniel was concerned and asked that I confirm with you that this is acceptable to allow to continue.

Vlad grimaced. Lisa would not be pleased if he overrode her instructions. But why was Belmont wandering around with a weapon on their property? That in itself was suspect and Vlad’s concerns about associating with the man came to full bloom. 

There was a small video clip attached and he opened it. After a moment he started to laugh, impressed and amused. Daniel, his head of security, was very cautious and sometimes it meant things like this happened. 

Trevor was whip cracking--something that Vlad now recalled Dominic mentioning to him in passing. He remembered his friend remarking with great pride that the boy was incredibly talented. Apparently Trevor had kept up with it; something that had not come up in the occasional updates.

Vlad unmuted the chancellor, offered his apologies and typed a quick response back. Belmont is practicing whip cracking, not attack strategies; leave him be.  His finger hovered over the send key and he added another couple lines.  

Please inform the riders that he is in there when they arrive for the afternoon exercise. They need to knock so no one gets hurt.

As the chancellor continued to wax poetic on the anniversary plans, Vlad allowed his mind to wander. What else had Trevor been up to? There’d been the rodeo activities--he seemed to recollect some kind of horse jumping…

No, barrel racing, that’s what it was, he recalled. If he was remembering correctly, there had been rugby, martial arts and fencing at one point. 

Sculpture had been a big part of Trevor’s life and still was apparently. Lisa had mentioned that he was a sculptor a couple of weeks back and her husband assumed that was what he was doing at the art college. 

Vlad shook his head, remembering Dominic and Penelope lamenting it. He recalled that the boy didn’t paint and how unhappy his parents had been about that. Tepes had related to it whole-heartedly. Adrian was rarely so uncompromising about something that it had been a shock when painting was one of them. 

The Belmonts had congratulated him on Adrian’s achievements as a painter, professing an admiration of his son’s technique and style. When Vlad had explained that was what his son wanted instead of the family business, they’d understood immediately. Apparently young Belmont hadn’t been interested in his family’s empire either.

It wasn’t that Vlad didn’t think Adrian was talented or that he shouldn’t paint. He thought his son’s work was interesting, he was good at it, and it made him happy. Vlad didn’t always understand it but he was proud of it.

But it was something someone of Adrian’s status did as a hobby, not as their profession. His son wanted this as a career, instead of the affluence he was born into. It still boggled the elder Tepes’ mind, and he took it as a sign of childish rebellion. 

One of many, Vlad thought with annoyance.

What he and Lisa did was real work. They were constantly on call, answerable to the public and a network of people. They put in long hours and sacrificed many things in the name of their positions. Adrian participated in that when he had to and quietly ignored the rest.

It was infuriating to Vlad. The disrespect to tradition, to responsibility, and to his family name was a tremendous thing to swallow. Fortunately, Lord Tepes adored his boy and thought the world of him. 

Adrian’s father thought that he had done a lot of work on accepting his son’s wishes and that the painter had no idea how hard it had been for his father to hold his tongue.

It would have shocked Vlad to know how keenly aware of his disappointment Adrian was and how much the blonde actually sacrificed in the name of his father’s wishes. The elder Tepes should have known--they had argued on this matter several times and more had slipped out than he ever intended. 

But he had no idea.

---

Sypha stretched against Adrian and smiled. Planting a soft kiss against his scar, she felt his breath in her hair and his gentle quake. He was so sensitive along the healed tissues and she loved it. 

I love you, she thought again, a shiver of her own as she thought of the magnetic command of his voice and the fierce intensity when he’d finally touched her. I don’t know what that was but it was incredible.  

It was like Adrian had sprouted a twin built entirely of self-confidence. His devotion had been overwhelming, but the assurance of it--his easy authority and comfortable control--that had been a revelation. 

She was used to her lover’s generosity but it was usually coupled with subservience. He liked to be guided and instructed. Today he’d held control from the moment he’d stepped into the hallway.

I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise, really, she thought as she felt his fingertips trail down her spine. It was the same giving flavor he’d always had, just with assertiveness bolstering it. But whew, that confidence was hot as hell.

It had transformed Adrian’s tenderness into a potent eroticism. He had whipped her desire into a savage lust that had coated her from the inside out. Who would have thought all of us would turn out to be verse? she thought with a grin. It was a pleasant discovery and one that made her wonder if Trevor knew this about Adrian as well. 

There was a loud buzz and Adrian shifted. “That was my phone, love,” he murmured. “Just over the side, can you reach it?” Sypha wiggled against his body and his breath caught. He shifted alongside her, his semi aroused state meeting her wet, slippery one. Even through the fabric of his underwear it was a potent thrill to feel his desire.

They groaned together. 

“I guess it’s not that important,” he muttered and brought her mouth to his in a careful, sweet press.

There it was, she thought, that almost shy bounty of tenderness.  The confident authority had seemed to settle back from wherever it had emerged but she could still taste it in the planes of his hips. 

Sypha sighed against his mouth and felt her heart flutter. There was no one else on the planet who kissed her like this. Every time their lips met it was like she was born anew under his mouth.

Gently she rolled her hips in time with the slip of his tongue, and his hands drifted to her ass. “God you feel amazing,” he ground out, voice tight, “but…”

“Give me a minute,” she said sassily, “I’m not done with you, Tepes.” His eyes were amused but she felt him angle his hips towards her.

“Atta boy,” she said and widened her legs. There was a loud chime from the other room and Sypha paused. 

“That was my phone,” she said, feeling slight curiosity. Adrian’s phone buzzed again.

“What the…?” Adrian said. She saw it in his eyes at the same moment that she understood. 

“Trevor!” they said together and dove for their phones. She came back to the door holding hers in time to see Adrian finish reading. 

He laughed. “Oh he’s discovered the stables! I didn’t know he rode; that is a wonderful idea!”

“He’s riding?” she asked and opened her phone. The idea had distinct appeal. Sypha had ridden in her younger years, only a couple of times, but had enjoyed the massive black mount Vlad had assigned to her the first time that she’d visited. Since she rode virtually every time she visited, Sypha felt fairly confident in the saddle these days.

“Yes, we should--” Adrian said, as he started to text back. There was a loud knock at the door to his suites and they both froze.

“Get in the shower!” she yelped and dove for his robe.

“You can’t answer the door in that, it’s monogrammed!” he hissed and shoved her toward the bathroom. “You get in the shower, you need it anyway!”

“Just a moment!” he called out and almost fell over as he yanked his pants on. He started toward the door.

“Adrian.” Sypha was laughing now, "If you thought the robe was a problem, try going out there semi-hard sweetheart.” She picked up his crumpled black shirt and tossed it to him. He wrenched it on, letting the tails fall to his thighs instead of tucking them in.

“There, now Adrian Tepes isn’t answering the door like Conan the Barbarian,” the redhead quipped as she started across the hall to the shower.

Adrian snorted, “Conan is actually built,” he muttered, working on his buttons.

“Oh baby, Conan wishes he had your ass,” Sypha stage-whispered back as she quietly shut the bathroom door. He heard the shower start and took a deep breath.

Think unsexy thoughts.

Composing his face, he opened the door. One of the security detail was waiting for him and smiled politely. “Apologies for the interruption, Master Tepes.”

“Not a worry. I was just discussing the evening plans with Ms. Belnades.” Adrian smiled gently.

“Excellent sir, that was actually why I am here. Lady Tepes informed us that the family may attend a showing this weekend, and both clothing and security would be needed.” The man’s face was polite inquiry. “I would like to inquire if a decision has been made in regard to that so that preparations can commence.”

Shit, of course, Adrian thought with dismay, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner on this one. I already said we discussed it.

“We had narrowed down the choices somewhat, but I have not had the chance to consult with my other guest, Trevor. I will do that before finalizing the decision.”

“Of course sir,” the man nodded. “May I ask, were any of the choices for this evening? That would be the most pressing issue.”

It was completely fair. They might need to bring on extra security, Saint would need time to gather stock and come over, fittings, drivers, overtime...

Adrian hedged. “To be honest, we were so excited by the prospect that I neglected to check the dates. One moment.”

He went back to the pile and saw the Anish Kapoor invite. The date was for this evening. Trevor, he thought immediately and turned back to place the invitation in the man’s hand. “This is highly likely, and it is for this evening, at the Wygol.”

He was silently grateful it was at the Wygol. His family were high profile patrons there and they would have no issue with granting access to security or otherwise assisting with the press. They’d done so several times in the past. Efficiently, they agreed to a fitting with Saint for Trevor and Sypha, moved dessert to coincide with the nightcap to allow time for the stylists and concurred that two separate vehicles would be taken to allow Trevor and Sypha to bypass the press if they so wished.

When the painter closed the door and took a breath, he offered a tiny wish to the universe that Trevor would be as excited by this as he was counting on, because it was now in the works.

---

When the artist rose that evening, she smiled. The conquest from the night before had meant she slept soundly and happily. His pleas had been so very sweet and she relished the memory as traced her fingers over the stiff, brown stains on her sheets. She could swear she could still smell the fear in his sweat and desperation in the dried blood under the pads of her fingers.

The handcuffs hung on the metal bedposts, matching brown stains dried in flaking crusts. She’d had the insides of the cuffs sharpened and the bed frame reinforced around the same time she’d soundproofed the room.

It was becoming harder, she reflected, to find conquests. She was banned from several BDSM clubs and escort services. But there is always some mindless dick who’ll follow a pair of tits home, she reflected.

None of them had ever turned the drink down, and she would give them a little something to stay compliant. They always thought she was playing Fifty Shades of Grey when she put the leg cuffs on. Some got a little worried when she’d put the gag in. But usually the panic didn’t start until they flexed against the handcuffs and cut themselves on the sharpened edges.

Masculinity was both her bane and her fortune. In this instance, it worked for her. Most of her conquests were too ashamed to do anything but avoid her when it was over. She would throw them some money, tell them to get out, and never hear from them again.

Every once in a while there would be a complaint, but she was very good at tears, she was delicate, and she was pretty. No one ever believed the men. Still, she found herself slowly but surely banned from the usual haunts and it was vexing.

Tonight though, tonight she would be in her element. She had her eye on bagging a private audience with the featured artist and she was very confident. Their work spoke to her on a primal level and their attitude begged to be cut down.

Their slick, bloody sculptures; the massive, sexually violent ram that had been forced through the archways, leaving bloody streaks and scrapes on each doorframe as it progressed--it was inspired and it spoke to the inherent violence of masculinity.

She never would have guessed the Wygol would have it in them to feature Anish Kapoor but she would use it to her benefit.

Tonight she hunted.

---

Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry

Stranger now are his eyes to this mystery

Hears the silence so loud

Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be

Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see

For whom the bell tolls

Time marches on

-"For Whom The Bell Tolls," Metallica

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Prepare for an arrival and a show down. But will it be who you think?
---
There was a comment several chapters back asking if we would see Trevor with his whip. 🥰 I hope it was worth the wait! There will be a little bit more of it yet!
---
I remembered to update the playlist!
---
Pictures: Pexals- "David" from Keegan Everitt, "Vlad" from cottonbro.
Whip from Lazy Goat Workshop (leatherworkers).

Chapter 36: In search of new dreams

Summary:

“Thank you,” he said softly and Trevor looked at him quizzically.

“For what?” the brunette asked and it was so sweetly innocent.

“For being so open to me, to this. For being accepting and fair.”

“Well,” Trevor grinned, “I was initially a little unfair, let’s be honest.” His eyes dropped to Adrian’s collar and the bruise hidden under the fabric.

‘You expect me to watch and do nothing.’ He heard Trevor’s angry hiss echo in his head and took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you that Agent Isaac said that your cousin never told anyone about the text you sent.”

Notes:

Chapter 35

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

- August 1940 -

Mathias Tepes slammed the door behind him and stalked down the hallway. Holding his temper in, he gave curt nods to the two servants carrying platters down to the ambassadors.

A minute, I just need a minute, he thought as his temper simmered dangerously. Mihail was belligerent and arrogant and it was clear that he did not care that they were essentially being eaten alive. Hungary wasn’t taking the land; they were being given it on a silver platter.

Worse, far worse, the displacement of the Romanian people was going to happen again. It was the thing that left a sick pulse in the back of his throat. His heart ached. The homes, lives and history of hundreds of thousands of his countrymen was being sacrificed on pages of paper spotted with the greedy sweat of Axis arbitration. 

It had barely been two months since Romania had yielded Bessarabia, northern Bukovina and parts of Hertza to Moscow. Like a dropped Fursecuri cookie, the country was being fractured and the pieces were being consumed by hungry wolves. 

Mathias had argued, he had warned and ultimately watched this inevitable outcome roll forward just like the German tanks, to crush Romania and her people. They had chosen a position of neutrality and it should have been respected. Instead, they were drowning in the open air and the world was looking away.

It was true that Romania could not win a military war with the USSR but he had pushed for concessions, delays, deflection, anything to buy them time. Allies were out there but slow to react and unaware of the real danger that Germany and its Axis truly posed. He touched the Magen David he wore around his neck, hidden under his suit.

If the world only knew the horrors being wrought, he thought, temper and grief warring against each other. Truthfully he didn’t even know for certain himself. But his network had brought whispers of camps, of exterminations, of looting and plundering and decimations of whole communities. He was afraid it was true.

Mathias came to the door and took the key from his pocket. 

Opening the door he closed it behind him. Pausing, he finally allowed himself a moment to open his mouth and silently scream. Tears welled up; hot, abrupt and helpless. They rolled down his face as he walked across the quarters to a closed door. 

Opening it quietly, he looked at the woman napping in the afternoon sunshine. Elisabetha, he thought, I will protect you. 

The delicate ballerinas danced over her head, heralds of a time when the world was civilized and reasonable. The Degas had been a wedding gift from his mother. When he was a teenager, his family had acquired Five Dancing Women (Ballerinas) and it had captivated him from the moment his father had hung it in the sitting room. 

Carefully, he took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears away. It was time to make some plans.
--- 

Sypha sighed happily as the horse shifted under her and she watched the two men riding ahead. It amused her that Trevor gravitated to the white mare, Luna. He had laughed when she’d told him that Luna was Lisa’s mount. When he said that figured, she’d wondered but they were interrupted by the trainers coming into the tack room before she could ask.

The trio had decided to go for a short ride. Adrian said he wanted to talk and Trevor had initially tensed, but the blonde smiled and said it was a surprise. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it apparently wasn’t too serious. 

The golden flank of Adrian’s horse, the stunning Sabie, disappeared around the edge of the trail and Trevor looked back at her. “You okay, babe?” he asked and she stuck her tongue out at him.

It’d been a surprise to discover Trevor was an accomplished rider. There is so much we don’t know about each other, she thought ruefully. Finding out that he’d ridden extensively and even competed, was a fascinating side to him that both surprised her and completely fit with who he was.

Sypha and Adrian had both heard the sharp retorts as they approached the barn and at first, she’d thought someone was breaking sticks. Adrian’s face had been intense curiosity and dawning awareness as he ran the last couple of steps to the barn.

When they’d rolled back the door, she’d understood. Trevor had been facing the door but at the other end of the barn. As they watched, he struck the far beam with the tip of his whip before whirling low to wrap it around his torso, the length looping in tight coils and neatly settling.

He’d initially been embarrassed but their awe and excitement had him explaining. A barrage of questions and several puns about whips later, it’d become clear he’d been something of a prodigy in the rodeo circuit until his parents died. Right about the time that Adrian had batted his lashes and asked Trevor how creative he could be with his whip, the trainers had shown up. They decided on the ride in short order.

Adrian was leading them toward the ruins at the far side of the lake. She’d been there once and loved it. It was a crumbling church from the 1800’s, all tumbling stones and fallen beams. When the roof had fallen in, Vlad had the debris cleared but left the walls and the simple stained glass windows. It was a favorite picnic spot for the family; private, secluded and in the heart of the forest. 

The painter had suggested that Trevor could give them a private show with his whip and Sypha was excited to see what he could do. It was a thrill to have the three of them alone at the estate and she was hoping to sneak in a snuggle or two; if Adrian was okay with it.

There was a scurrying sound somewhere up ahead and the blonde’s voice carried back. “Wait a minute you two!” Sypha slowed her horse and came up alongside Trevor, who had stopped.

“What’s up?” She asked him and he looked over at her. 

“Not sure, but he doesn’t sound upset.” It didn’t escape her that Trevor’s hand settled on the whip looped onto the side of his saddle. She doubted he even knew he did it. His protective instincts were such a beautiful and heartbreaking thing.

Moments later Adrian appeared with an amused smile. “There’s no path to the ruins today unfortunately, but if you drop the reins and come with me quietly, you’ll at least get a good laugh.”

Trevor leapt down lightly and looked over at Adrian. “Just stay there for a second Legs, I’ll be right there.” He reached up for her and when she swung her leg over the saddle, he lifted her down effortlessly. 

That is sooo hot, she thought, feeling the flex and momentary iron of his muscle under her hands.

“Hello super pecs,” she murmured and fisted her hands in his hair. He grinned and kissed her. It was hard, possessive, and fast. His tongue licked into her mouth like a claim, an exclamation and a vow. Mine. She could practically feel it written on her lips. 

The inability to publicly claim the trio is manifesting, the digital artist thought. It was a slight ache under her ribs and a quick thrill between her thighs.

“Mmmm, thank you,” she gasped as he eased back.

“My pleasure, sweet thing,” he grinned again and turned to Adrian. Bemused, she watched him stride over and offer his hand to the rider with a gallant bow.

“You do know I can dismount on my own, Trevor,” Adrian said with a raised eyebrow and quirked lips.

“I know you waited for me to come over here and help you.” Trevor said with a sly chuckle. 

“No, I waited because you asked me to,” Adrian sighed, dropping his reins and slipping his feet out of the stirrups. “I am perfectly capable of--.”

“Admit it,” Trevor interrupted as he reached up for him and put his hands around his waist. Adrian gasped as he was bodily lifted from the saddle and clutched Trevor’s shoulders. “You love it when I play ‘white knight to the rescue.’”

The painter slid down the sculptor’s body and her lover’s expressions had Sypha’s heart easing into her throat. There was such a sweet softness in Adrian’s face and a warm welcome in Trevor’s. She held her breath. The sunlight brushed strokes of light over the two men and Adrian’s long lashes shifted as he looked down to Trevor’s mouth.

Slowly, he raised a hand to Belmont’s cheek and stroked a thumb over the stubble. Desire stumbled between them in a hitched breath and a tightened grip. This time it was Adrian who leaned in. The moment he did, Trevor swooped. 

Rough, urgent and needy, the sculptor’s hands moved up Adrian’s back. The painter brought up his other hand to cup Trevor’s face. He whimpered against the brunette’s desperate lips and bent willingly into the hand raking through his tresses. 

“I’m here,” the painter whispered, “I’m yours.”

Trevor groaned into his mouth and jerked the high collar of his shirt down. The starkly purpled bruise stared out at her and she winced. But Trevor’s hands gentled, and he eased Adrian’s head back, working soft kisses down to the wound. When he licked it, the painter shivered.

“I can’t apologize for marking you,” Trevor murmured against the injured skin. “But I am sorry if I hurt you.”

It was an insight into the bites for her and a step toward understanding. Of course Trevor would need a brand, a symbol, something tangible for him to point to, she thought. Unable to claim Adrian as his to the world, he left something of himself on the painter’s skin like a tattoo of connection.

The blonde's hands soothed at the nape of the sculptor’s neck. “You didn’t hurt me Trevor. I love--.” He gave a hard swallow against the scrape of Trevor’s teeth. Sypha’s heart leapt. 

Tell him Adrian! She thought excitedly.

Trevor brought his head up and stared at the blonde. There was a beat and the painter said, “I love wearing your marks. It makes me feel like you--.” He sighed, a soft puff of longing. “I love how protective you are.”

Trevor’s smile was slow, seductive, and slightly feral. “I protect what’s mine.” He glanced at Sypha. 

“Don’t I, lover?” he asked her and she smiled knowingly.

Adrian looked over at her and held out his hand. “You know I feel the same,” he said, voice thick with emotion. She took his hand and Trevor put his arm around her waist, drawing her into the circle of their bodies. Adrian looked back at Trevor.

“I would protect both of you from what it means to be with me,” the blonde continued, regret heavy in his voice.

“Oh no, Addy,” Sypha said, kissing the top of his hand softly. Don’t be sorry for who you are, she thought. It is not your fault.

“Any price is worth being with you,” Trevor said roughly and went on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Adrian’s forehead.

“Trevor,” the painter whispered, a wealth of emotion in the name. Belmont smiled gently, even as pain sketched its form in his eyes.

“Now, what were you going to show us?” Trevor asked as he stepped back. 

Sypha bit back her sigh. She wanted to scream but there was nothing to do except rub Adrian’s hand gently. Some days it feels like I’ll never hear them confess their love for each other, she thought.

Adrian squeezed her hand and stepped toward Trevor. “The lake has overflowed its banks up ahead. We could get through it no problem, but there are otters there and I don’t want to disturb them.” He looked at Sypha, “You know Mother doesn’t like upsetting the animals.”

Sypha laughed, enchanted. “She is right! Did they build a home or something?”

“No, better!” The blonde smiled as he offered Trevor his hand. “They are mud sliding.”
---

Adrian’s heart was in his throat. He’d been far too close to telling Trevor he loved him. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right to launch that on him right now. There will be time for that later, he told himself. At some point. Maybe.

He knew better. The fear of losing Trevor was pressing against his ribcage and he wouldn’t do anything to upset this balance. There’d been something there, when the sculptor said that any price was worth being with him. 

While the sentiment bloomed warmth under his skin, the blonde couldn’t help but wonder if that would hold true if Agent Isaac’s suggestion of his father’s involvement was right.

That was one of the things they needed to discuss. There were reasons he had sought the privacy of the forest. And as cute as the playful otters had been, they were running out of time to be alone before dinner.

“Here we are,” he said as they came to the small dock half mile from the house. A wooden platform with a simple gazebo stretched about fifteen feet into the water. Leaving the horses to pick their way along the shore, the trio trooped over the platform. 

Sypha took off her shoes and dipped her feet in the water. Trevor lounged on the wicker two-seater, and Adrian leaned against the entrance with his hands in his pockets. “So we have plans for the evening, if you want,” the blonde began.

Trevor grinned. “Does it involve a pool?”

Adrian couldn’t help the heat he felt inching up his throat. “It could, if you wanted.” If it meant you would fuck me, he thought, I would cancel the whole evening and---

“I'm thinking it should,” Sypha piped up, looking over her shoulder. “I told you I wasn’t finished with you, and I imagine Trevor would like a chance to live this pool fantasy of his.”

Anticipation closed Adrian’s throat temporarily. He thought of her drawing from the limo and resisted the groan that wanted to accompany it.

Trevor stuck his lower lip out and pouted. “I missed something, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Only Adrian talking me into an orgasm like a total dom,” Sypha said easily.  

Like a what?!? Adrian thought as his jaw dropped. “I wasn’t a dom, that’s--!”

Trevor moaned, low, feral and excited. “Oh please tell me you’d do a repeat performance. I want to see this, so fucking bad.”

Torn between feeling flustered and embarrassed pride, Adrian just nodded. After all, he’d thought practically the same thing about the sculptor needing to see Sypha as pliant and stunning as she had been. I just never thought I would be part of the portrait, he thought.

“Did he tell you what to say when you fuck--?” Trevor started to ask in a hungry voice, and Adrian coughed loudly.

Time is not on your side here, he reminded himself and redirected the conversation. “I didn’t, we didn’t--we were interrupted.” Trevor opened his mouth and Adrian raised his voice. “I really need to talk to you and we don’t have much time.” The brunette closed his mouth but a faintly ravenous smirk played around his lips.

The painter continued. “We have the opportunity to go to Anish Kapoor this--.” Trevor’s face exploded in excitement.

“Yes!” The brunette launched himself out of the couch like it was spring-loaded. “Holy fucking shit, are you kidding me?!?! Tell me you said yes; tell me we are going, I have always wanted to see his--!”

Relief sang a cool wind through Adrian’s bones and the blonde grinned. “Yes, we are going. We can meet him if you like.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped comically and then he started to laugh. In three strides he was at Adrian and reaching for him. Gently, the blonde redirected what was clearly meant to be a kiss into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and pulled back. He watched a great deal of the joy leech out of Trevor’s face. 

Bleeding from invisible wounds, his heart squeezed like an orange in a juicer. His lover sighed. “Don’t be sorry. I am sorry; I forgot.” Belmont turned back toward the castle that was nestled down the shoreline and the blonde looked past him towards it too. 

It’s not fair Trevor, I know. I am sorry, the painter thought.

“That’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with you. It’s tonight and my parents would like to come with us. That means press, security, and,” he looked at Sypha, “new outfits. Mother is very excited.” 

The redhead whooped and kicked her feet gleefully. “Tell me Saint is coming with them!”

“Naturally,” Adrian laughed but watched Trevor from the corner of his eye. Belmont had not turned back from the building and had now crossed his arms. Let me love you, let me give you this. The money is nothing and being with you is everything. I saw how excited you were, please don’t fight--.

“Well I did tell Saint that I would let him dress me sometime,” the sculptor said easily as he turned back.

Love slammed into the blonde like a collapsing building and Adrian was helplessly caught. He made it so easy for me. “Thank you,” he said softly and Trevor looked at him quizzically.

“For what?” the brunette asked and it was so sweetly innocent.

“For being so open to me," the painter answered. "To this. For being accepting and fair.”

“Well,” Trevor grinned, “I was initially a little unfair, let’s be honest.” His eyes dropped to Adrian’s collar and the bruise hidden under the fabric.

‘You expect me to watch and do nothing.’ He heard Trevor’s angry hiss echo in his head and took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you that Agent Isaac said that your cousin never told anyone about the text you sent.” It was like he’d kneed Belmont in the groin. Trevor buckled to his knees in an instant and Sypha’s horrified gasp echoed over the water. She scrambled to her feet.

You idiot! Adrian’s brain screamed at him, even as he rushed to the sculptor’s side. There were a million better ways to tell him and you didn’t even warn him!  “I’m sorry, I am so sorry, I should have-.” Trevor’s hand clamped painfully on his wrist and blazing blue flames snapped into to his eyes. Sypha put a soothing hand on the brunette and stroked, but she didn’t try to pull him away. 

“When did he tell you this?! Tell me everything, Adrian!” The insistent, choked snarl made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. Quickly and succinctly, he summarized the end of the conversation with the FBI agent, watching the raw, intense emotions roll over Trevor’s face. 

“I believe him.” Adrian finished, squeezing the sculptor’s shoulder. “It would be in his best interest to let you keep thinking that your text was a factor, but he clearly doesn’t want that.” Trevor swallowed, and with dismay, the blonde saw the shimmer of tears. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I wanted to tell you when the time was--.”

“No,” Trevor swallowed again, “No, this is amazing. This is,” he shuddered. “I can’t even tell you.” Sypha murmured and smoothed his hair. The sculptor closed his eyes and the tears rolled down.

“You are blameless my dear, beautiful Trevor,” Sypha said quietly. “I love you, and so did they. You did nothing wrong.”

The sculptor sniffed and shook his head. “I fucking hate crying.” He buried his head in her shoulder and wept. 

Helpless, the painter watched them, unable to even offer comfort lest someone see. Crouching, he patted Trevor’s back and hated everything about the situation. Looking over his shoulder to the corner of the gazebo, he stared resentfully at the camera. 

I would give anything to hold him right now, he thought. Sypha looked at him. She indicated the lounge cushion with her chin and flicked her eye to the camera. Yes, he thought instantly, his heart leaping. The painter nodded and she squeezed the sculptor.

“Adrian needs to hold you,” she said before standing. Grabbing the cushion, she slapped it over the camera. Belmont barely had time to look up, and Adrian was settling into his lap, drawing him into his arms, murmuring apologies and endearments into the curve of his neck.

“Thank you,” Trevor sobbed into his shirt. The blonde’s heart tried to burrow inside of the sculptor like a bird bomb-diving from his chest into the brunette's ribcage.

“It’s okay, Trevor; you are safe. It was not your fault and it never was,” Adrian soothed. “There was so much love for you.” He took a breath, watching the infinity of his future spread out like the sunlight on the water. “There is so much love for you still.” 

The sculptor's grip on him tightened. Yes, Trevor, he thought. Hear me. Know what I am saying.

“I thought,” Belmont mumbled from his shirt. “I spent so much time believing-.” Adrian’s courage disappeared and self-reproach smashed into him. 

How selfish can you be? He thought to himself. The man is having a life-altering moment about his parents’ murder and you think he wants to hear about your love right now? It’s too much and it’s only what you want, not what he needs. 

“Your parents will always love you Trevor,” he said. “They never blamed you.” He soothed his hand over the quaking form pressed against him. “Now you don’t need to blame yourself.” He rocked Trevor gently and stroked over his back. The brunette’s shudders eased and his breathing evened out.

“I’m so sorry guys, but there is something going on at the house,” Sypha said with an urgent tone. “I think they are concerned that the camera is out.”

Adrian snapped back to the moment and stretched his head up to peer over the wall of the gazebo. Sure enough he could see two teams heading towards a Jeep at a fast clip. With a grimace he eased back from Trevor and grabbed for his phone. There were three texts from Julius asking for the code word for safe. 

“Shit!” He scrambled back and nodded to Sypha, who withdrew the pillow.

Quickly he texted back to Julius the code word and apologized for the disruption, stating that they had been discussing something upsetting and Trevor needed a moment to compose himself. The tersely worded, “Please inform security in the future prior to covering cameras. They are there for your safety sir,” made him feel like a child. He knew that they weren’t wrong but he also resented asking permission for literally everything.

When he looked up, Trevor had dried his eyes and was looking out across the water. Sypha had come alongside, wrapping her arms around him. As he watched, Trevor reached up to put his hands over hers. They looked so beautiful and peaceful together. Adrian’s heart slipped to the floor and rolled over to them.

“I need to tell you something else,” he said carefully. They turned toward him and Trevor’s face was so tired that he couldn’t do it. “It will keep though. It’s not urgent.”

“No.” Trevor said, rubbing his eyes and offering him a sad smile. “No, please, whatever it is, no more secrets. I have something I need to tell you too.”

Fear and anticipation clawed under his collarbone. Suddenly what he wanted to say seemed insignificant. “Maybe you should go first.”

Trevor’s lightning quick grin cut the tension cleanly. “Not a fucking chance, Legs. I cried, which I hate doing. Your turn to suck up it up and feel awkward.”

Adrian huffed but he had to laugh. “I’ve cried in front of you before, what is the big deal?”

Trevor arched a brow, “You look like a Raphelite angel when you cry. I look like Tobey Maguire when I cry.”

Adrian burst out laughing with Sypha, and after a moment Trevor joined them. “No you don’t, are you nuts?!” he wheezed.

“Okay, that is fair, Tobey looks better,” Trevor quipped and Sypha punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What, you want my ugly cry again?!” The sculptor whirled and tickled her. Sypha yelped and kicked.

Adrian’s phone alarm went off and they both looked over. He turned it off and sighed. “That’s the alarm to head back. Saint will be here in 40 minutes and the stylists will be here too. If you want a shower, or a snack, or just down time, it’s now or never.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows. “Stylist?” He made a face. “Oh fuck, I really am gonna look like Tobey Maguire.”

Sypha grinned. “I vote black eyeliner, baby.” Trevor scoffed and then looked at the blonde.

“Alright, let’s head back. I need a shower.” The trio stood and headed back down the dock towards the horses when Trevor spoke again. “What was the other thing you were going to tell us?” he asked and Adrian tensed.

“It’s complicated and it’s something that Agent Isaac said. I'm not sure now is the time.” They walked toward the horses. “I want to tell you because I don’t want you to think I am hiding anything but I don't--.”

“This is the bullshit about our parents, isn’t it?” Trevor said quietly and Adrian’s guts heaved. He stopped and stared at the brunette.

“What is going on?” Sypha asked, eyes wide and alarmed.

“Agent Isaac suggested that my father-,” Adrian began softly, stricken as he watched the anger come over the sculptor’s face.

“It’s bullshit,” Trevor said firmly and put his hand on the painter’s shoulder. The heat of his body was comfort to a skin that had suddenly gone cold. “He’s grasping at nothing because he can’t solve the case. He’s a good guy, but I told him, he’s way off base.”

Shock was cold water in the painter's churning belly and he felt sick. “He told you this already. You knew this already.”

Trevor’s eyes slid away. “He told me when I was arrested. I told him he was wrong. He has nothing but guesses.”

“Excuse me, but can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Sypha interjected.

Trevor looked at her. “Isaac traced the scholarship money from me to Adrian to Vlad and said that it was the same account that made payments to my parents. He made it sound underhanded.”

The words were a nonsensical buzz in the painter’s ears. He was trying to absorb the implications of Trevor having known this, and never saying anything. What did it mean? Did he really dismiss it so easily? Was this why he was so hesitant to accept Adrian’s money? Was this why he wanted to come visit, so he could confront Vlad about his parents?

A sick thought tried to worm it’s way into his head. Wasn’t this the night he kissed you? Wasn’t it-- Stop. Don’t think this. This is what Isaac wanted, to make you question and doubt and--.

Distantly he heard Sypha laugh. “Oh please, Vlad was just buying art! Why would he need to do anything underhanded. The Belmont Gallery would have been right up his alley to broker a purchase! It makes sense.”

She’s right. That is the part that doesn’t make any sense. Father doesn’t need money and he doesn’t need forgeries so why would he have done anything…

“I know," Trevor answered her. "I told Isaac he was off the--.”

A calm whisper of reason and logic spoke into Adrian’s ear in Isaac’s voice.But all those purchases go through his broker, do they not? And there is usually a referential addition to the Tepes Art Trust Collection website. Neither of these things happened in this case...’

But there wouldn’t necessarily be if they were gifts, the Tepes heir thought suddenly. In the same way that his mother had outright purchased the Christopher Wise pieces, they could have been buying something for a friend or one of his extended family members. Eight figures worth? He wondered again and shook his head.

When he looked up, his eyes were caught in a blue thundercloud. Trevor was watching him very carefully. Adrian stared back, feeling his composure peel away like mineral flakes from the hull of a boat.

“What are you thinking?” the sculptor asked gently, his tone far softer than his eyes.

Adrian swallowed. “Honestly? I am thinking that I can’t make it make sense. There is no good reason for my Father to be involved in anything illegal.” Trevor nodded, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “It sounds vain but it’s simply true. It’s not money and why he would want forgeries, I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Trevor snorted. “Like I said, Isaac--,” he broke off as Adrian shook his head.

“Isaac doesn’t strike me as the type to go to all this trouble and take the risk of accusing someone like my father, unless he genuinely believes there is something to these accusations.”

The brunette looked thoughtful and Sypha spoke quietly. “Did it ever occur to either of you that maybe Isaac doesn’t believe it himself?”

Startled, Adrian looked at her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Trevor do the same. “I don’t understand?” he asked her.

She shook her head slowly and there was real concern on her face now. “What if the point wasn’t to cast blame on Vlad? What if the point was to create a divide between you two?”

Trevor snorted and Adrian felt completely lost. “But why would he--?”

“Trevor said he’s grasping at nothing, because he can’t solve the case.” She looked at Trevor, urgent warning in her face. “I saw Godbrand with you. That man hates you. What if,” she swallowed and he could see she was shaking. “Have you thought about what it means to the FBI that your cousin didn’t tell anyone about your text?” 

Dawning horror rippled up Adrian’s spine like a cold washcloth slipping over each vertebrae. Oh fuck, oh no, he thought.

“What are the chances they don’t want you to have a relationship with the Tepes family because Adrian would protect you-,” She took a breath. “If they tried to charge you for your parents murder?”

----

Agent Isaac strode into the Ainav Art Gallery with purpose. A lovely brunette woman strode forward with a smile and a greeting. He flashed his shield and watched concern come over her face.

“I need to speak to whomever has had the most contact with Christopher Wise,” Isaac told her. He was asked to wait and simply nodded. Turning to idly, he casually glanced down the hall and stopped. Absorbing it for a moment, he narrowed his eyes and walked toward it.

It looked like a shattered egg that was trying to jump while dripping with its own innards. It was interesting-the weight of the metal and the texture of the surface. He stepped closer, stopping just before the door. The thing was massive and somehow furious, alien and sensual, all at once. The sculpture called to him, but he couldn't say why.

“Excuse me.” The voice was strong but tempered in neutrality. It was pleasant, with a faint hint of an accent and Isaac found it surprisingly pleasing. He turned. 

There was a man standing about four feet from him. The agent’s first impression was elegant reserve. This man’s voice matched his appearance. Clad in a steel blue suit, a caramel-coloured tie and polished shoes perfectly matched to the tie, the man exuded good manners and polished sophistication.

His body was trim, sleek and made Isaac wonder if he was a swimmer. Flawless, olive skin glowing with health shimmered against ash blonde hair two tones darker than anything possible in nature.

It was surprisingly long, to his chin, and waved gently around a striking but carefully blank face. There was a softness around the lips and the corners of the eyes that suggested gentleness.

But when Isaac looked into eyes as endlessly blue as the desert sky he’d been born under, he tripped from polite appreciation into interest. There was something lurking there and it was observing him with careful consideration.

What are you looking for? He wondered.

“May I see your identification please?” The man asked. Isaac withdrew it, holding it up.

“And do you have a card?” the man asked.

Abundantly cautious, Isaac thought, intrigued. Most people accepted the shield and fell all over themselves to help and be involved.

“I do,” he said, and reached into the back of the leather case that held his shield. He offered the card to the man. When their fingers brushed, that neutral face momentarily slipped and the FBI agent saw real concern.

So it is me, he thought, he is worried about why I am here.

“Special Agent Isaac Masterati,” the man read off and then looked up. “My name is Hector Fauri and I am the artistic director for the gallery. What can I help you with?”

----

There's such a sad love
Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel
Open and closed
Within your eyes
I'll place the sky
Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart
Beating so fast
In search of new dreams
A love that will last
Within your heart
I'll place the moon
Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill is gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you
As the world falls down

-"As the World Falls Down," David Bowie

Notes:

Well it's been a hot minute, hasn't it? This chapter actually got split in two because I am trying to tie too many threads up. The upside is I am hoping to have the next one out within a week.

This is probably a good time to mention I am already 6 chapters into a spin-off Agent Isaac and artistic director Hector story because, yah know, I don't have enough WIPs. 🥴

And just in case you've been living under a rock, see you all on Netflix in the wee hours of May 13th. As a note to the new season, I do want to let people know that I have the remaining plot already sorted in my head and don't intend to make changes, regardless of how the show itself ends. (And by Saint Germaine it better end well, damn it).
----
Sypha model: Abbey Cowan, Trevor model: Mario Ermito, Adrian model: Emil Andersson.
Pexels - Painting from Polina Kovaleva and lake photo from Quang Nguyen Vinh.

Chapter 37: I get down on my knees and pray

Summary:

“Is that the beauteous Sypha?” Vlad’s voice rang out from inside the room and the redhead laughed.

“Is that the incredibly handsome Lord Tepes?” she called out and Andrei stepped to the side to allow her to pass. 

She heard his snort from inside the study. “Oh please you teasing huss, I’m older than your father.”

“I will pine for you eternally,” she said loudly, approaching the open door. Before she could reach it, the man himself appeared; a large, looming presence. He was absurdly tall, stunning, regal and grinning at her. 

Notes:

Chapter 37-Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha closed the door to the bedroom and dropped onto the floor. Alone in the guest room, she was half-blind to the clean lines of the sea-green bed and the deep, honey-blonde woods of the furniture. She was shaking and just needed the minute.

This was bad and neither man seemed to really believe how bad it truly was. She was not a fool. This was far worse than either one wanted to believe.

After a moment, she realized she was sightlessly staring at the stunning painting by Jolene Lai. The ascending woman with the merry go round horse and the cherry blossoms was from the first art opening that they’d attended with Vlad and Lisa. Sypha had to grin at the memory. 

She’d been so unprepared for the stylists, the press, the fawning and the attention. It had been just as bizarre and uncomfortable as Adrian had been apologetic. The blonde had obviously been nervous about her reaction, and sweetly attentive all evening. 

It’d started like something out of a dream. A sky blue column of sequins with a label on it from a designer she’d only ever seen in ads in glossy magazines. Delicate, tiny heels, a magical transformation from her collarbone upwards. She’d stepped out of the limo feeling like Cinderella descending her carriage.

It’d come crashing down in the wake of the crush of the photographers, the shouted questions, the way Adrian kept her hand tightly trapped in the crook of his elbow until they were inside. She had understood the price of the dream when his voice had become utterly devoid of emotion, and his face painfully neutral when he’d been asked to comment on the artist.

Her best friend never talked about art like that and watching him become a withered bloom just to survive left a deeply painful mark on her heart.

There had been moments that evening that were beautiful too. When Lisa and Sypha had found themselves alone together in front of Lai’s painting, they’d spent 15 minutes bonding over what they saw in it. The female experience, the draw of the darkly divine, the hollowness of consumable media, the delicate connections of humanity and nature. 

Sypha had found herself relaxing into the familiar comfort of discussing art. By the end, she was completely enchanted with Lady Tepes’ warmth, insight and perception. Watching Lisa with her family for the rest of the visit had fermented the enchantment into a comfortable affection.

The next visit to the house she’d been floored to see the painting in the guest room and when she’d approached it, she noticed a post-it on the corner in lovely, precise writing. ‘Never wanted to forget seeing the beauty of your heart for the first time. -Lisa’.

That is what is at stake, she thought. The chance to have that love and acceptance extended to Trevor. For him to have a family again, or at least more dear friends.

The redhead narrowed her eyes. If her lovers could have seen her face they would have said that someone was in trouble. In her mind, the digital artist recalled the confrontation in the Kahlo Lounge with Godbrand and Isaac. 

They were both threats, she thought, but Isaac, he is a stiletto to the heart.

Agent Isaac had proved he was relentless and he’d obviously been following them in order to provoke a confrontation in front of Lindenfeld’s. She sorely wished it had been her he’d tried that bullshit with, but she suspected that Adrian had been the target all along.

That made her incredibly uneasy. Adrian was the most vulnerable of all of them because he had the most to lose from a public confrontation. And if the agent would approach him, what’s to say he wouldn’t approach Vlad? Any suggestion of Trevor as a suspect to Lord Tepes, and the damage was potentially irreparable.

From the beginning, the digital artist was not concerned about Lisa, for a number of reasons. But Vlad? He was special. 

His pride was only paralleled by his love. But Lord Tepes had to love you first. His heart was a closed fist and her careful climb inside had only been possible by clever patience and playing by his rules. Neither was something Trevor excelled at.

Sypha was certain Vlad would respect Trevor and be intrigued by him. Vlad admired strong people with solid principles and that was the sculptor to the ground. With time, that could be coaxed into love. 

Especially if it was clear that those around him loved the sculptor too.

She had fully intended to spend the weekend expressing at each and every opportunity how much she adored Trevor. Leveraging Vlad’s love for her was not something she had any issue with when it came to the trio.

She knew Lord Tepes had a soft spot for her. The truth was that she had a mile wide streak of love for him. They understood each other. 

They both loved fiercely, possessed the drive to protect and guide and had a need to maintain a certain amount of control in order to do both those things. While Sypha was more flexible and forgiving, she recognized and accepted the elder Tepes for who he was.

It was because she understood him, that she had hopes that they might be able to finesse an acceptance of the trio.

Adrian’s parents loved him and loved her. If played just right, they would eventually accept Trevor. It was a possibility that they would be alright with the trio in private settings. It would not happen overnight and the Tepes’ would need to see that Belmont was not a threat to their lifestyle, their legacy, or their son’s heart. 

But this agent, he could destroy everything before Trevor ever had a chance. She bared her teeth and clenched her fist. Was it possible they could think it was you? she’d asked and hated the grief that carved its weight into the corners of Trevor’s mouth.

The answer had not been satisfying. He’d only been forty miles away, alone in a hotel room for hours while his home and the gallery burned down with his parents in it. He had no idea if there had been any independent corroboration of his whereabouts or what the investigation had uncovered.

The more they discussed it, the more uneasy Sypha became. 

He was truly in the dark about all of it, she thought again, rocking gently. Part of her wanted to scream at him; how could you live with not knowing?!  Another part of her, the part that bled for everything left unspoken, understood that every day of ignorance was a tiny death that he relived every minute. 

When Adrian had suggested that they might hire Soma to make some inquiries for some information, she’d broken her own rule and point-blank asked him to do it.

Sypha never asked for money or favors from the painter. It was a deliberate decision she’d made from the moment she’d understood who and what he was. In a world that only ever wanted something from him, she tried to just give. 

That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t accept his gifts. She understood it was important to him to be able to do things to show he cared. Sometimes they were gestures, embraces, art, or intimate moments. Sometimes they were monetary things. It didn’t actually matter once you understood that they were all motivated from a place rooted in deep love. 

It was something she hoped that Trevor would understand someday. It was the same reason Adrian would arch with surrender under the sculptor’s hands in an eternal offering, make a beautiful dinner, dress him in $1600 boots, or buy Belmont a lawyer for some peace of mind. It all came from the same place of giving and it was all gestures of his love.

She made a mental note to check with Adrian about Soma on Monday and sighed heavily. 

Just let this weekend go smoothly from here, Lord, please, she prayed reflexively and stopped. Resisting the automatic apology for asking instead of praising, she knelt and rested her hands on her thighs, palms to the heavens.

As a child, she had earnestly templed her hands against her forehead and spent hours on her knees in supplication. She still knelt but the weight was in her shins and feet now. The kneeling was not proof to God that she would suffer in some sick emulation of the agony of Christ. The kneeling was to calm her mind.

The words were not the ‘Our Father,” which she still knew by heart. Now, it was her own words and a conversation instead of fearful imploring. It was a conversation with a dear friend and not an all watchful deity prepared to punish at the slightest infraction.

“I don’t know what to do to protect everyone. I know I can’t do it all and I know that there is so much I don’t understand. I am trying, really trying, to let things progress naturally and to accept my own limitations. I know that you are with us in all of this, but,” her voice fractured at the edges and she fell silent.

But I am scared, God, she thought. I know we could all be so happy but I am afraid of what might happen if I--no if we, if we cannot navigate this together. Please watch over everyone I love. Please be kind to all of us, as much as you can. You know what is in my heart. Please, I am begging you. Amen.

Sypha opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She was calmer as she stood and opened the door. She could smell faint flowers, and steam wafted from the bathroom. 

Trevor must be bathing, she thought and wondered where Adrian was.

She poked her head into the pristine, white space. The massive tub was white stone cut into geometric shapes and polished to a high sheen. The scent of lavender and honey clung to the warm water vapor in the air. 

“Hey, Trevor, do you know--oh my, that’s a beautiful sight.”

Trevor let his head fall back and gave her an upside down grin. “I knew this place was upscale but the service is incredible.” The blonde looked up from soaping the sculptor’s arm and snorted. The massive tub was filled with water, hot moisture rising it’s surface, and two very naked men.

Adrian playfully slapped his chest. The wet smack of sound was mouth watering and Trevor looked at the blonde. 

“You missed a spot,” he told him and Adrian arched a brow before smiling slyly.

“You are right,” he lifted the bar of soap and angled it toward the brunette’s mouth. “Open up, Belmont.”

“Oh hell no, get that--!” Trevor squawked and Adrian dived for him. The brunette jumped to the side and the blonde went under. “HA! I got y--ohhhh my God,” he hissed and closed his eyes. 

Sypha could see the wet strands of blonde hair snaking out under the water like golden lightning across a clear sky. Adrian had settled between Trevor’s thighs. The water rippled gently.

“Busy afternoon for Tepes,” she managed, even as she felt zings of desire gallop up her thighs and whip into her belly.

“Sypha, holy shit, he is so good at this,” Trevor gasped. He was gripping the edge of the tub like it was a rocket ship taking off.

Thrusters would be engaged at some point I suppose, she thought cheerfully. Blast off, Belmont. “Oh, I know,” she said with a half-moan. “He’s a fast learner.”

Adrian surfaced, a slick golden curtain running down his back. He looked even younger than he normally did, a wet mermaid who would tempt you into the depths. 

“Trevor,” he murmured and straddled the brunette’s lap. The men locked eyes on each other as the painter started a slow slide against the sculptor, abdomen flexing and water rolling off his skin.

“You are welcome to join, Sypha,” Adrian said with a coy glance. “I promise that the service is excellent here.”

The painter couldn’t see it, but she could. The desperately devoted, slightly overwhelmed gaze Belmont gave him, the hard swallow as his fingers flexed in the golden hair. The love, the desire, the need--it was all there. 

Give them some time alone, she thought and smiled. She was tired and maybe she would wake up to a simpler world.

“I’m going to go take a nap,” she said. “Have fun.”

---

Adrian writhed against him, a sleek golden cord of desire that trembled. “Trevor,” he gasped, “Please, I--oh, oh!” 

When the blonde clenched around his fingers, tight demand and hungry plea, Belmont’s cock pulsed in response. The sculptor groaned against the nipple he was suckling and thrust his fingers shallowly, the glide of their wet flesh a delirious dream that threatened to shatter him. 

The painter’s head fell back and he gasped for air, the bruises at the side of his throat jumping. Watching him like this, Trevor felt it all over again; the awe, the reverence, the joy--this man was his. 

He worked his other hand over to the bruise and pressed. 

“You are gorgeous,” he murmured as Adrian bucked helplessly, yielding against the fingers on his throat and grinding into the ones moving inside him.

“I am yours,” the blonde groaned, a deep, echoing promise lost somewhere in the caverns of his heart.

The needy, prowling creature in Trevor sunk its fangs into the words. It’s so close, he thought, so close to the three words that I need from you. From the everything that I want to give you.

He licked his way up to the angular collarbone, tasting soap, need and impending release. “And I am yours, Adrian. I need you.” He kissed the bruise and moved his hand down between them.

“I need you too, so much, you don’t understand how--!” The blonde’s words were caught in the sculptor’s tight grip as Trevor’s hand encircled their arousals. He pumped with tight strokes. The hands in his brown hair tightened abruptly and yanked. The little pain was a firecracker behind Trevor’s eyes and he looked up.

Look at you beloved, he thought reverently. The painter lost in ecstasy was one of the most beautiful things in the universe. And I am one of two people in the entire world who has seen you like this. He should be trying to fight the possessiveness, he shouldn’t be feeding it. It would only end badly if… 

Adrian’s lips parted and the tiniest note of an exhale was a love poem wrapped in a gossamer ribbon and pressed between Trevor’s heart and his soul.

I love him. He is mine, the brunette thought. There was no room for anything else. 

The sculptor stroked out of Adrian gently, timing it with the firm grip embracing their mutual desire. Thrusting his fingers back inside, he pressed deliberately, kneading in a firm pattern.

“Yes, yes, yes! Trevor!” 

A gasp carried its kiss, tasting of sunshine, to his lips. Adrian came apart above him, painting the brunette’s skin with his release. The tremble of his spread thighs against Trevor’s legs flared a protective elation so huge that it stole Belmont’s breath.

The blonde’s body went lax, pliant, and he slumped against his lover, head in the cradle of his shoulder. Trevor started to withdraw his fingers from Adrian’s body. “No,” the painter mumbled, “please stay inside, a little while longer.”

The words made Trevor ache. What I wouldn’t give for you. Desire and love clawed at each other and he struggled to keep his hands light. 

I want to take, I want to plunder, I want--. Adrian’s kiss on his shoulder was delicate, gentle and tender. 

“There is so much I want to say and I don’t have the words,” the brunette whispered and tensed. That was not what I meant to say, he thought desperately.

“I know what you mean,” Adrian sighed. “Just know that everything you want to say, I want to hear. I want you, everything about you.”

Everything? He wondered and felt it rise up in his throat. All those words, the words I am not good at, the words I am afraid of, the inadequacy, the doubt…

“I have been so many people Adrian, I’ve done so many things,” his voice dropped into a hiss. “It’s not possible for you to want to know it all, and that is alright. I’m trying to--”

Amber winking from the depths of a gold mine met his gaze as Adrian brought his head up. “Trevor, look at me. I want you. All of you. Whoever you were, whomever you will be. You are mine now, just as I am yours. I take all of you, and I do so with infinite gratitude.”

The sculptor couldn’t breathe. The words settled onto his chest like a big cat kneading against his windpipe. He can’t know what that means, he has no idea what I’ve done, he thought, even as his heart retorted. He is saying that doesn’t matter. He is saying he accepts you, maybe even loves you.

Adrian shifted in to kiss him and then looked down. “Speaking of taking all of you, what are the odds you’d let me this time?” He rose up on his thighs and Trevor’s fingers slipped from him. When he angled himself down onto Trevor’s cock, a soft moan slipped from his lips and fell between them.

Instinctively, Trevor settled a hand on his hip. “Adrian,” he ground out, fingers tightening on the wet contour of his lover’s ass. Cock snug against the valley between the blonde’s sweet curves, the sculptor could feel a seeking clench. Everything in Belmont narrowed into the invitation of that movement. 

“You’ve already come,” he said tightly. “I don’t want to--”

“But you haven’t,” the painter rolled his hips, “And you feel incredible, and I just want--.” Trevor’s cock slid down, rigid demand against yielding welcome. 

“Ah, yes,” Adrian moaned. The tight muscle contracted against the sculptor and Trevor felt control slipping fast, racing away from him like a sled down an icy hill.

“God,” the sculptor whispered, uncertain whether it was a prayer or a command. Just stay still, don’t move, don’t hurt him, don’t demand, don’t--

“You can call me whatever you want if you would--” Adrian squirmed against him and Trevor slipped inside. It never would have happened if the painter hadn’t been worked open so thoroughly. As it was, it was just a fraction, just a half inch, but it was enough.

Trevor had good intentions. He loved Adrian and had always intended to do this when the time was right. When the blonde was eager, relaxed, open, and aroused. When Trevor was in full control of himself. That was not this time.

Reservations, doubts, concerns fled into the tight, hot welcome of Adrian’s body. Need roared under his skin and worked into his lungs like a burrowing fish hook. For a split second there was nothing but sensation, and a desire snapping restraints that ceased to exist.

Trevor clutched his hips, bit the blonde hard on his bicep and thrust. But when Adrian gasped, there was a sharp edge of uncertainty to it. There was real resistance to Trevor’s entry and huge, belated siren lights pierced the cloudbanks of lust.

It’s his first time, you have no lube, he’s already come, you are hurting him! A fine sweat broke out all over his body and he stilled. 

“I’m so sorry, how badly did I hurt you?” he said tightly, trembling slightly from the effort of holding still.

Adrian’s smile was small when he caressed Trevor’s cheek. The anticipation in his face was tempered with caution. “You didn’t, but it is a little uncomfortable. Just let me get used to it. I didn’t expect all of you at once.”

You idiot, he said to himself. You completely incompeten--! Trevor blinked. All of me? Despite the anxiety of the situation his mouth kicked up. 

“Uh, Adrian?”

The blonde had closed his eyes and was taking deep breaths. Trevor was torn between the dark pulse to take and claim, and the sweet ache to sooth and retreat. “Mmmmm?” the painter murmured.

“I’m not all the way in. Like, not even close.” Adrian’s gold eyes popped open and the dismay rivalled the amazement.

“What?!?!” Tepes squeaked with disbelief. “Are you serious?! But you’re like, mostly in, right?”

The sculptor struggled to keep his face somber. “No babe, I’m maybe a third of the way in.”

“But! You feel--! I can’t--you’re fucking huge!” If it was even possible, Adrian’s voice was slightly higher and more alarmed.

Only my ego is bigger right now, he thought, even as he gritted his teeth against Adrian’s gentle fingertips seeking confirmation.

“Oh my God, how does Sypha do this?” Adrian asked with keen anxiety.  It was the unhappiness that decided the brunette. In all his fantasies about this moment, Adrian was right there with him; not genuinely worried and upset. “Like, it’s a fucking miracle she can still walk!” the painter continued in that same tone.

Trevor couldn’t help it; he snickered, even as he started to retreat. But as he shifted inside of Adrian, the painter contracted around him. Crimson and rose clouds of pleasure rolled in like a storm saturated in the scent and flavor of Adrian. Trevor swore and his grip grew tight. “Seriously Legs, don’t move and don’t do that again. I think this was enough for tonight.”

Adrian sulked but Trevor didn’t miss the relief. He smiled and rubbed a thumb over those pouty lips. “Believe me, lube is an important, and currently absent, factor. It will really help, trust me. I knew that there would be no ‘all at once,’ that’s extremely rare. And I absolutely do not want to hurt you.”

“But I want you,” Adrian whispered against the pad of his thumb. He nipped the tip. Trevor groaned and leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues moved together and Adrian mimicked the movement in a slow roll of his hips. Trevor felt it in his very marrow; a relentless wave of passion flooding reason and resolve.

“Fuck!” he hissed, lifting Adrian off his cock. Too close, too close, don’t hurt him--!

“Well I am trying to, but...” the painter sarcastically declared and Trevor narrowed his eyes.

Seriously Legs, I’m going out of my mind here and you are teasing me!

“I mean, I appreciate that you--” Adrian said in that snooty duchess voice and Trevor was lost. He fucking loved that voice.

Seizing Adrian’s wet mane, he wrapped it in his fist and brought those cheeky lips to his. “Turn around,” he ordered as he nipped the sass off his lover’s lips. Adrian’s eyes widened and awareness plumed in them.

Just as Trevor was about to remind the blonde again that he would not hurt him, Adrian smiled. It was that same coy grin he’d given Sypha. “Five star service,” he quipped and turned. Settling against the edge of the tub, he arched his ass and looked over his shoulder. One eyebrow rose and a knowing smile accompanied it.

When Trevor’s hand connected with one white cheek, Adrian’s coyness washed into the bath like streaks of gold and lilac paint. The painter closed his eyes, leaned into the spanking and whimpered. There was a treasure of meaning inside of the sound and it glittered over the sculptor like confetti.

Trevor did it again, the red print a stunning blush on ivory skin. Adrian wailed softly, his broken, “Please more,” a flare illuminating the passion seeping out from every pore and breath inside of Belmont.

“Five stars indeed,” the sculptor observed as he wrapped one hand around his cock and gave Adrian another slap. The broken gasp was an ardent tongue licking over his skin and he matched it with a hard stroke over the hot flesh filling his calloused palm.

“Cover me, please, like you did at Lindenfeld’s,” Adrian begged. Trevor switched to the other cheek, three quick raps that had Adrian rearing up, head falling back as he moaned. “It's so unfair how much I love that, Trevor--!”

“Bossy today,” Trevor remarked, even as he laced his fingers into the golden waterfall slicked to Adrian’s back. 

The sculptor fit his cock against the slick, gentle curves that gave sweetly against him. Unashamed, Adrian bucked against him and the brunette glided over the warm contours, the slick friction a sugared glaze to his desire. Trevor rocked into the valley, the underside of his shaft a wicked drag over sensitive skin.

“Oh yes, oh please, do that again, Trevor just--!” Adrian moaned.

“Was that an instruction, Mr. Tepes?” Trevor taunted lightly, thrusting deeper, watching the tip of his cock wink out against Adrian’s tailbone.

“If you would follow directions it could be,” the painter retorted and promptly writhed as Trevor’s palm connected with one cheek. The sensation of the blonde’s frantic movements and clenching against him was otherworldly; spiraling galaxies colored in passion rotating in his belly with each slide.

Trevor tugged gently on Adrian’s wet mane and the painter loosed a deep moan that flared hot lust in Belmont’s throat. Trevor pressed him down into the edge of the tub and curled over him, even as he sped up his strokes.

“Like this?” he purred, the water a cooling, filmy barrier between them.

“Oh yes,” Adrian whispered, even as he arched harder into the shelter of Trevor’s body. “You feel incredible.”

I don’t know who is more in control here, he thought, body racing toward fulfillment. We are lost in each other, found in each other.

The hand in the golden hair moved down to the side of Adrian’s neck. The painter’s hand reached up to bring the brunette’s hand to the vulnerable column of his throat. He pressed Trevor’s hand against his jugular and the brunette felt the blonde’s hard swallow against his fingertips.

Spreading his palm wide, he squeezed insistently. “Ah, yes, harder,” the painter rasped.

Happy to oblige, Trevor dug into the sides of his throat, the submissive yield of the flesh against his fingers tripping him closer to his climax. God help me there is no one like you, he thought, helpless and pleasured. I can’t live without you. It was terrifying, it was comforting, it was beckoning madness.

Adrian’s hips rolled, matching Trevor’s pace. It was too easy to imagine what it would be like to be inside him and moving like this. It coiled like an ancient sea serpent rushing to capsize a boat, spread over his limbs, and seized his desire in its talons. 

“I love this; I love when you do this to me.” The painter whispered and that darkly possessive need dripped into the heady passion. It was a blizzard of pleasure falling over him, a bag of goose down shaken out on a gusty day.

He could swear that the pulse skipping under his fingertips moved in time with their bodies, adding another voice that spoke of love and unity to the myriad of songs between them.

Trevor plunged with abandon, hips snapping against imparting flesh. The wet slap was an exclamation on Adrian’s words and he tightened his grip on his lover. “I love knowing you are mine,” he growled, “that you have chosen to be mine.” 

The painter’s breath was hard now, feral gasps and hot speed under him. “Trevor, I--” The brunette nipped his shoulder and Adrian’s voice grew tight, demanding. “Fucking bite me, yes, I need it. I need you, I want to ache from you. Give me you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, it chanted inside him like a howling chorus and he bit down on Adrian’s shoulder. Heedless of care, he sunk his love, his need and his helpless wish to publicly claim this man into his teeth.  

Adrian’s choked gasp of his name was a mountain falling onto his heart, burying everything under the sculptor’s desperate love for this person. He closed his eyes against it, as though somehow the obvious might be denied.

The crest of Trevor’s release was rolling over him when the rigid tense and flex of the curves around his cock spiked the pleasure to almost painful intensity. The sweeping roll ripped into a tempest of satisfaction so huge he quaked with it.

He groaned out Adrian’s name against his shoulder and felt long, slim fingers stroke his jaw as he collapsed against the painter. 

--- 

Sypha couldn’t sleep. Alone, her worries about Agent Isaac crowded in and fed into her nerves. Even the incredibly erotic sounds from across the hall didn’t distract her. So she crept down the hallway, past the Stimson painting and the elegant gleam of the dining room table to slip out of the suite. She made sure to lock the door behind her. 

The vast home stretched out before her and Sypha knew the only off limits areas were the offices and the private wing of the Tepes. She debated watching something or visiting the conservatory but really, she just wanted to wander. There was always something wonderful to look at.

She trailed an idle path down the hallway, passing a room dominated by a large mirror with winged dragons on either side and lined with family portraits. Moving past a home theater room with black leather seating, a wet bar and the biggest TV she’d ever seen, she paused at a massive studio with dance mirrors, exercise equipment, a ballet railing, two punching bags and a floor to ceiling pole. She still hadn’t guessed which security officer used the pole yet.

She noted the silver cabinet had been locked back up and the maid was gone. Each piece shimmered brightly, a beautiful collection of Tepes pieces dating back to who knows when. She paused to look.

There was such variety here. Little baby spoons lined up with initials of people long since past, candlesticks twisting in a pattern of delicately beautiful eagles twined with Romanian peonies, a tea set with the ancestral castle stamped into it, a massive platter etched with the family tree, the menorah she’d see the maid working on, three tiny baby bracelets with wolves and bats delicately carved into them. 

Her smile was wistful when she noted the initials on the nearest one, AAT. Adrian, she thought. 

She knew that several of these pieces had been inherited but even more of them had been painstakingly hunted down by Vlad and reclaimed. His family heritage was incredibly important to him and a point of immense pride.

Do not threaten that Isaac, Sypha thought again, anxiety an unpleasant visitor with a pickaxe in her ribcage. Trevor is not a problem and please don't make him appear to be one.

She descended the stairs when she heard the click of nails on the stone floors and looked over the marble railing. Andrei was opening the doors to Vlad’s study and Conte was leaving the room.

“Ms. Belnades!” the assistant exclaimed with a broad smile as he caught sight of her. Sypha smiled back and reached the bottom of the stairs. She walked over to the man and he put a hand out to her. When she took it, he put his other one on top of hers. 

It was close to a hug as Andrei got.

“Is that the beauteous Sypha?” Vlad’s voice rang out from inside the room and the redhead laughed.

“Is that the incredibly handsome Lord Tepes?” she called out and Andrei stepped to the side to allow her to pass. 

She heard his snort from inside the study. “Oh please you teasing huss, I’m older than your father.”

“I will pine for you eternally,” she said loudly, approaching the open door. Before she could reach it, the man himself appeared; a large, looming presence. He was absurdly tall, stunning, regal and grinning at her. 

His salt and pepper mane was tied back and he was attired in ‘casual’ clothing for the day; a deep maroon knit with a black blazer and slacks. Vlad’s black boots gleamed and the heels were trimmed in silver. Like father, like son, she thought fondly.

As always, his moustache and beard was perfectly trimmed into pleasing angles and those unusually dark eyes the same shade as the Tepes wolves crinkled with pleasure. “Did you miss me?” He asked and she laughed before launching herself at him. 

His arms opened easily for her and she held on tightly. The smell of cigars drifted with his cologne. It was an unusual fragrance, midnight air with a distinctly coppery note. It greeted her, holding just as much comfort as the kiss he dropped in her hair. Vlad’s elegant chuckle was an echoing mirth against her ear as she burrowed in.

“Miss you? Well, only a little bit,” she answered into his sweater. When she looked up he was looking down at her with fond affection and she felt her eyes sting slightly. I do love you so, you ridiculous man. Please be kind to Trevor.

“Well, I missed you, my dear.” He tapped her nose and they stepped apart. “How have you been?” 

No time like the present, she thought and spoke. “I am so very happy right now Vlad! I have a very special man that I want you to meet.”

Vlad arched a brow and gestured her into his office. “I confess I am immensely curious what man might entice my Sypha.”

She batted her eyes and smiled as she looked around the study. The digital artist had only been in here a couple of times but it was utterly Vlad. Dark wood and leather wainscotting throughout. Large, imposing doors led out to the lake beside a fireplace with bat wings and the wolf’s head motif carved into the stone. A crown encircling twinned swords hovered above the snarling creature.

Expensive Persian rugs in crimson were a tetris of wealth over the hardwood. Two tall, ornately carved chairs in mahogany were a few feet from a solid walnut German Baroque corner desk that dominated the entire front of the room. The Tepes coat of arms was carved into the front of the desk alongside dog roses and snarling lynxes. Each leg was a dacian draco, jaws balancing the inlaid black leather top.

Settling into one of the chairs, Sypha curled her hands into the gaping maws of the beasts on the arms and traced the rosettes that ringed the leather seat. “He’s an unusual man, but one that will surprise you.”

Vlad’s smile was a rueful twist. “I was very surprised when I received the call from Soma regarding this young man’s legal troubles.”

Oh shit, Sypha thought unhappily. 

Vlad approached the 18th century standing cabinet and opened it to offer her a drink. “Țuică?” he asked. “It’s close enough to dinner.”

“Yes please,” Sypha nodded and decided to just be honest. “Trevor is blameless in that regard. It’s relating to an old issue with his parents that really has nothing to do with him.”

Vlad offered her the slender crystal flute and touched his glass to hers. “Yes. The Belmont International Gallery. I respected his parents.”

Sypha froze and looked at him. He did know Trevor’s parents! Did the FBI agent actually--

“Lisa and I bought a couple of paintings from them as a gift to the RRAG.” Vlad’s frown was quick but serious as he settled into the other chair. “One of them was a forgery. I had them examined after the scandal broke.”

Isaac was completely off base, but as if this couldn’t get worse, Trevor’s parents stole from him! That boded horribly and Sypha took a deep breath. Looking into Lord Tepes’ eyes, she spoke from her heart.

“I’m so sorry that was your experience of them but I am really glad you seemed to have some regard for the Belmonts. Trevor has gone his whole life having to carry what they did around with him. He doesn’t deserve to be judged for it and I can honestly say I have never met anyone with more integrity.”

Vlad tapped his finger consideringly on the armchair. “You don’t think he knew anything about it?”

Sypha blanched. “He was sixteen! The first he knew of it was the last time he spoke to his parents and--” She bit off the words. You cannot tell his story for him, no matter what the value of it might be.

Calmer, she spoke again. “I know he didn’t. Rather than me telling you though, why don’t you talk to him yourself? See what you think? All I am asking is you keep an open mind.”

Vlad was studying her now and she gave her head a quick shake. “I adore him. He is a incredible man and terribly important to me.” Her face broke into a smile. She reached forward and patted his hand. “What can I say, I want all the incredible men who are important to me to get along.”

Lord Tepes toasted her and took a sip. Eyes on hers, he answered, “I promise to do my best, dulceața.”

----

Every time I think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue
It's no problem of mine, but it's a problem I find
Livin' a life that I can't leave behind
There's no sense in telling me
The wisdom of the fool won't set you free
But that's the way that it goes and it's what nobody knows
Well, every day my confusion grows
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You say the words that I can't say

-'Bizarre Love Triangle,' New Order

Notes:

Next chapter is Saint Germaine dressing Trevor and a moment between Lisa and Adrian--just imagine how those conversations will go 🥳🥴
I swear to the heavens I am not intentionally dragging this out. I'm really sorry, there is just a lot of things that need tying in before dinner! Vlad and Trevor will meet very soon!
---
dulceața-sweetie, sweetness

Țuică - a traditional Romanian liquor made from plums, similar to a sweet port.
---

Vlad: Jeff Bridges, artwork Anni @Pexels, men in the shower Ketut Subiyanto @Pexels and door knocker Max Avans @Pexels

Chapter 38: And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat

Summary:

“If I am honest with you, Saint, would you keep it between us?” Trevor asked carefully.

You can put whatever you want between us sweet thing, Saint thought happily as he put the old history aside. The sculptor put his hands in his pockets. The shirt across his pectorals pulled tight and the boutique owner bit the inside of his lip. 

“Yes, I am surprisingly good with secrets,” the boutique owner winked flirtatiously. “If it’s sexy though, I demand details for my silence.” Like if you’d spank me, or use a crop? Saint looked at the fists in the pants pockets. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I hope you favor your hands.

“Sorry, it’s not. I’m sure you’ll be amused nonetheless. I don’t want to accept any more money from the Tepes’. It’s not...what I want from them.”

Notes:

CW: Insinuation of suicide, fertility issues
Chapter 38 - It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Saint looked over at Trevor and grinned. The young Belmont would be a showstopper this evening. Tall, dark and handsome, he cut a fine figure in the mossy green suit. He’d refused the maroon, as well as the purple. The green was stunning but definitely more understated.

Unfortunately it had been clear from the start that the sculptor wanted something more subdued, but Saint respected a man who understood the crowd he was playing to. Better to play it safe when you’ve yet to meet your hosts.

Still such a shame though, Belmont in the purple would have the art crowd licking his boots.

The stylist had known what she was about, artfully cutting and shaping his hair into a slickly spiked mass and trimming his stubble into a stylishly rough and ready shadow. Trevor had been delicious before and in this state, he was breathtaking.

Now if only I could have convinced him to wear the corset vest instead of the traditional vest. He’d suggested it as a joke, but still had brought three, just in case he could convince Trevor. No such luck, and it’s a terrible pity. 

He’d seen Trevor’s interest in it and the exact moment he told himself no. Maybe next time, Saint thought. It wasn’t even a question to him that there would be a next time. Between the footage at Lindenfeld’s, and Adrian’s friendly clap on his shoulder that lingered just a moment too long, it was clear Trevor wasn’t going anywhere.

“Might I recommend some jewelry to accompany your outfit?” Saint asked Belmont, already approaching with the case filled with the select pieces he’d chosen thinking of the man.

Trevor smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you Saint,” he said. The powerful line of his shoulders rolled gently like a strong current.

I’d row my boat down that river, Germaine thought gleefully. Paddle me hard and call me sailor.

“Is something wrong, Trevor? If you are uncomfortable in this outfit, we have time to find you something else.” His grin was sly. “I have a fabulous top that would go with your zebra shorts and boots.”

The brunette barked a laugh and the tension eased. “Oh, I am sure Lord Tepes would love that so much!” the sculptor said, making a face.

Anyone who saw you in them would, dear man, Germaine thought reverently. Vlad would not be immune.  

“You might be surprised,” Saint said instead, withdrawing a dully burnished silver ring with a deep topaz stone. He offered it to Trevor, who nodded with approval and slipped it on his hand.

“Oh please, I cannot imagine Vlad Dracula in thigh high leather, Saint.” Trevor shifted again and it was the note of tension in his voice that confirmed the boutique owner’s suspicions. “Such a scandal.”

Worried about approval are you? Saint thought. 

It was a valid concern. Germaine personally knew that Vlad had no issues with same sex relationships, but there were not many who would know that. Any liaisons by a Tepes would always be conducted with utmost discretion. 

Looking at Belmont, anyone could see this was not a man who lived in the shadows and held his emotions inside. Given the footage he’d seen from Lindenfeld’s, he doubted Trevor ever could. There had been a dangerous possessiveness in his aura for the first few seconds he had exited the bathroom that had no place in the Tepes public life. 

“You’d be wrong then.” Saint said calmly and offered the pocket watch in the same silver shade. Trevor shook his head but reached into the case for the silver trio of chains with an evening clasp. Saint felt the familiar thrill of choosing an item that was just right for a client. He’d been sure that would be Trevor’s choice, but had wanted him to make it.

“One moment, I have a case with some charms; you can clip them on.” Or clamps, I mean, those would work too. The fleeting image of Belmont’s broad chest adorned in the little gold nipple clamps with crimson drops that Saint had in his armoire at home was pure, delicious sin.

“Alright but I want to hear about these heels, Saint.” There was interest in the sculptor’s tone.

I just bet you do, sweet boy, Saint thought with a flutter, remembering Vlad Tepes trying on his first pair of black latex boots. Maintain composure, Saint.

The boutique owner went back to the trunk and withdrew a slim velvet case. “I knew Vlad in college. He was--is, an extraordinary man.”

“Really? You’ve known him that long?” Trevor asked with curiosity. Saint opened the lid and turned back. Trevor’s face lit up. There were eight crosses in varying styles and metals, some inlaid with semi-precious stones. They gleamed on the white velvet; little splendid artworks.

“These are stunning Saint!” Trevor’s smile was huge. “Holy cow, how did you know?!”

Smug was a comfortable emotion, and one that Saint didn’t bother repressing. After all, he was a fabulous and gifted stylist.

“I like to pay attention to someone’s tastes. You have crosses on your chains and they are very sculptural ones. It made sense you might like something similar for evening wear, but more delicate.”

“I want them all!” Trevor said, reaching toward the case. 

I know the feeling darling, Saint thought, trying not to drool over the size of Trevor’s hands and the callouses he could see on the fingertips.

He paused and Saint could almost see his mind working. “But I won’t. In fact, I don’t actually need any of them, but thank you, really.” His fingers lingered over a delicate curl of metal with tiny fern leaves patterned across it.

“With respect sir, may I ask why?” He had his suspicions of course. He’d seen the fight at the register and Trevor’s clothes when he entered the store. Vlad and Lisa were paying for this, but pride was a tricky thing. Saint respected it, even as it frustrated him.

Vlad’s pride is a match for yours, Belmont, Germaine thought ruefully. It made him wonder if Trevor kept secrets like Vlad did. The boutique owner certainly didn’t know all of Lord Tepes’ secrets but he knew a few. He suspected more of them.

Looking at Trevor, he wondered again about his parents. Wondered if the phone call he’d made after the trio had left his store would bear fruit.

It made Saint sad in a way. Vlad and Lisa were a beautiful couple and deeply in love, but Lord Tepes had refused every suggestion Germaine made on the matter. Long time friends or not, one only pushed Vlad Dracula so far. Not even suggesting that he was repeating the same mistakes he made with Betta had convinced Vlad.

Tepes’ first wife had been very different from Lisa. Saint had not liked her but understood why Vlad was attracted. Betta came from an impeccable family and was young, docile, beautiful and polished. She was the exact opposite of what Dracula had needed, and everything that the young Vlad thought he did.

She had yielded unquestioningly to Vlad in every respect and allowed him to control everything. Tepes had truly been the king of the castle. It had fed into Vlad’s ego, his protective, possessive nature, and his sense of superiority. 

Which young Dracula had in spades, Saint thought. Not much has changed in that regard. Saint loved Vlad but the man’s ego was so astronomical, it would have had Atlas begging for the earth back.

The inevitable happened. When you have a powerful, attractive, proud, and intelligent man, he needs someone who will meet him on his level. There had never been a possibility of Betta doing that.

It became natural to Lord Tepes to keep secrets and treat his marital relationship as a care-giving one, rather than a partnership. More and more, the space between them grew until their love transmuted into duty. And Lord Tepes already had plenty of responsibilities in his life.

Vlad still cared for her, but he was trapped. A man in his position couldn’t get a divorce and it would be a scandal he would never have brought on the family name. His pride was too enormous. Betta shrank under his anger, under his resentment, and his disappointment. She was never built to endure emotions as substantial as Vlad’s.

Then devastating news. Betta couldn’t have children and the dynasty was at risk. It was the final straw. 

Vlad would weather the scandal of divorce but he would not be childless. His family name, history and lineage meant too much to him. But he did not tell his wife that. Instead, he quietly contacted a divorce lawyer.

A dick move, and not in the fun sense, Saint thought.

Perhaps it would have been alright if Betta had not been so delicate. She’d never been without the structure of obedience and approval. She had trusted Vlad to take care of her and trusted him when he said their childlessness didn’t matter.

He had lied to her and it was too much.

She’d found the papers by accident and begged for an explanation. When her beloved husband took her hand and told her that he loved her but it had to end, Betta had told him she understood. She’d cried a little, accepted his handkerchief, and went for a walk out by the lake.

She never came back. The newspapers called it a boating accident and there was never any indication otherwise. 

Vlad never spoke of it. He withdrew from the public for the better part of a year and re-emerged thinner, sharper, and in what was now his signature black. His charm remained intact but there was a bitterness under it.

Germaine only knew as much as he did because his friend had called in the middle of the night, three months after Betta’s death, and Saint had come. They’d spent the night together; Saint listening, holding his hand, and refilling his glass.

He’d woken to Vlad eagle-eyed, and handing him a non-disclosure agreement. Saint understood how Tepes’ mind worked, and signed it without even reading. It had not been a surprise when Germaine didn’t hear from him for another three months.

Saint remembered seeing him interacting the first month of his return to public duties and thinking Vlad needed a challenge, intellectual stimulation and someone who encouraged his growth. 

It had been a hard climb back for Tepes and Germaine had tried to be there for him as much as possible. Their friendship lasted, easing back into a familiar rhythm. Vlad regained his muscle mass and some measure of peace.

Then Lisa’d appeared; a fresh, bold, tender, and vibrant presence who swept out the cobwebs and challenged his friend in thrilling new ways. If only she’d been able to completely eradicate some of the old, Germaine thought.

“If I am honest with you, Saint, would you keep it between us?” Trevor asked carefully.

You can put whatever you want between us sweet thing, Saint thought happily as he put the old history aside. The sculptor put his hands in his pockets. The shirt across his pectorals pulled tight and the boutique owner bit the inside of his lip. 

Down boy, Saint told himself and reminded his libido that he was not allowed to go all the way down. What about just a little bit down though? I bet he’d let me call him...  Germaine realized he hadn’t actually answered him.

“Yes, I am surprisingly good with secrets,” the boutique owner winked flirtatiously. “If it’s sexy though, I demand details for my silence.”  Like if you’d spank me, or use a crop? Saint looked at the fists in the pants pockets. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I hope you favor your hands.

Trevor grinned, that lightning quick flash of teeth and dimples. I’d promise you anything Mr. Gorgeous, the older man’s heart stuttered.

“Sorry, it’s not. I’m sure you’ll be amused nonetheless. I don’t want to accept any more money from the Tepes’. It’s not...what I want from them.”

Saint was fascinated. He was used to seeing the hangers-on around the famous people who frequented his shop. Not one of them had qualms about charging to the celebrity and taking whatever they could. 

Perhaps it was foolish, but the shop owner believed him. Trevor didn’t want money. Did he want fame?

“In fact, I rather wish they were nobodies,” Trevor said. The small smile was heart-breaking. “It would make my life simpler.”

Not fame then...The light winked on like a spotlight on a coveted purse. Truthfully, he should have thought of it earlier but he just assumed it was a fling, an exploration between beautiful men. Never say you love Adrian, Trevor! But what about Sypha? 

He dismissed the moment of concern that Trevor might break her heart. No, what they have is authentic. Which means… The boutique owner immediately expanded his opinion of all three of the young people.

Bless the sexual revolution, he silently shouted. That is a beautiful thought and a laden issue. He immediately tucked that away and focussed on Belmont. What could he give him without betraying a confidence?

“Did you know that once Vlad and I spent all afternoon trying on heels together?” He selected the cross with the fern and handed it to Trevor.

The brunette was shaking his head. “No, Saint, I--”

“Consider it a gift,” Saint said and smiled. “Don’t shatter my illusions by being rude.” A ‘thank you’ for stripping down to your skivvies and making me feel 20 again, Saint thought. For reminding me that love can come in all sorts of groupings. It’s terribly romantic and will be absolutely fascinating to watch unfold.

“Vlad is absurdly tall, as you know, and yet, he favored the four to six inchers. Knee highs, just like Adrian.” The boutique owner picked up his suit brush while Trevor clipped the cross to the largest chain. “He still does but it’s an equestrian heel, sadly.”

“Not that I want you to stop this story,” Trevor said softly, “but thank you very much. Would you allow me to--”

“Escort me sometime? Absolutely. You’ll look--.” Alarmed Saint stepped forward. Young Belmont had blanched out and his blue eyes looked like a patch of sky in the middle of a storm cloud. 

“Trevor! Are you alright, what is wrong?”

Belmont waved him off and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just...I wasn’t expecting that.”

Faintly insulted and still a little concerned, Saint sniffed. “I was joking of course. You don’t need to be seen with an old--” and Belmont was hugging him. “oh,” Saint squeaked quietly, and just stood there. 

Alright damn it, I only wanted to love you for being sexy, not for being a dear, sweet mound of cake. Normally Saint didn’t care to be drawn into publicly intimate displays of affection but this was something else. Trevor was holding him like he’d been lost at sea. After a moment he patted the broad back of the sculptor awkwardly. He could smell faint lavender soap, something kin to roasted nuts or grain and the tiniest metallic tinge. It charmed him, how homey Belmont smelled. 

It was a nice distraction because he was doing his best not to melt into the incredible strength of the man. He is as strong as he looks, and oh my God I just want him to heft me like a shot put. But Saint was nothing if not professional, and he gently eased Trevor away. Authentic distress overtook him as he noted the sheen in the blue eyes. 

“I apologize,” Belmont said hoarsely and gruffly sniffed. “I don’t want you to think I wouldn’t be incredibly honored to escort you somewhere. I just…there is history for me you accidentally tapped into. You name the place and time and I will be there.” He grinned crookedly. “With the boots on, if you like.”

“Darling, you arrive in those boots and I might think I am 30 years younger.” Saint said dryly and held up the suit brush. Trevor nodded with one of those lightning grins and Germaine’s heart squeezed. 

Dangerously beautiful men, he thought. I definitely have a type.

“Thirty years would make you about 4 years old Saint,” Trevor quipped and the boutique owner preened.

“Clever man, flattery will get you everywhere with me,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he brushed hair and fuzz from the suit in sure, concise strokes.

“Promise?” Trevor purred and Saint batted his lashes.

“Tell me you own a Thunderbird, and I will fight Sypha for you,” Germaine sighed dramatically.

“Frankly, you should fight me for Sypha, she’s the real catch.”

The shop owner melted like a marshmallow on a hot dash. The adoration in Belmont’s voice was plain and his eyes crinkled so happily when he said her name. He patted Trevor’s shoulder. “You both are, dear man, and it’s lovely to see.”

Trevor grinned and Saint swept the brush over his back. “Now, Vlad and his boots…”

“Oh yes, please and thank you.” Trevor's voice was flushed with delight.

“We met in college. I thought he was gorgeous of course, I mean the man literally defines tall, dark and handsome. But that was impossible for obvious reasons.”

Trevor’s grin faded. “He doesn’t approve of such relationships.” There was an tinge of anger in there, like a black scuff on a white wall.

Saint smiled smugly. “That’s actually not the case at all, Trevor. Vlad Dracula couldn’t care less.” For a whole number of reasons I cannot share with you. Belmont’s eyes went wide and Saint felt real pity for the hope he saw in them.

“However,” he continued, gentler then he would have guessed he could be, “Lord Tepes is another matter. He is constantly aware of the expectations, the perception, the implications.” Trevor’s eyes hardened and Saint resisted giving him a soothing pat. 

“When you are born into that role, like Vlad,” he paused and added delicately, “or Master Tepes; you quickly learn that your life is not your own.”

“You could make it your own though,” Trevor spat acidically. “You could redefine the expectations.” Saint finished brushing him off and stepped back.

“With respect, Mr. Belmont, you know Adrian.” He met the man’s gaze. “Fairly well, I suspect at this point.” He saw comprehension swing across the brunette’s features before Trevor carefully schooled them.

Yes Trevor, and if I can see it, you can bet that his parents will. “If it were that simple,” he smiled briefly, “what do you think Master Tepes would do differently in his life?”

---
Adrian stood in the hallway, careful not to cross his arms lest he crease the stunning black feathered bib that was expertly pinned to the collar of his black turtleneck. The black feathers echoed the wing design on the shoulder blades of the dinner jacket as well as the embossed white feather on the back of his leather boots.

The blonde stroked the simple black bow with the sculptural pin at his throat and followed the edge out to the side of his neck. He smiled. Adrian had wanted to wear something that would give him an excuse to handle his throat and feel the bruises whenever he couldn’t touch Trevor.

He’d dressed himself this evening, partially because he’d felt like it, and partially because no one could see Trevor’s bites. It wasn’t unusual for him to forgo the stylists, and no one would think anything of it. He did allow them to apply makeup and tame his hair. He hadn’t done anything with it since the bath and it was already starting to wave.

A warm tingle cruised over his cheeks as he thought of the bath. I love knowing you are mine. I love knowing you’ve chosen to be mine. They'd spoken of love between them. What that love looked like and what shape it took was a question for another day but it was there.

The painter knew that Trevor cared about him. He knew that there was a fierce sense of protective possession. But for the first time he thought the sculptor might truly welcome hearing that Adrian loved him, and wanted to be with him always. It might be something he wanted to hear, and it wouldn’t make him leave. 

The painter moved to the next artwork and stared at the quietly snowy landscape and the shifting shapes in the hollows of the winter scene.

The brunette’s anxiety over hurting him had been frustrating and bewildering. The blonde had assumed that it was that protectiveness in overdrive. He’d been wrong and he understood it now. 

He wasn’t kidding, Adrian bit his lower lip. A third! It was still a little alarming. 

It’d been too much too fast and he hadn’t been expecting it. Perhaps it’d been foolish but he’d thought it would just feel like Trevor’s fingers. He shivered. He loved what Trevor could do to him with his fingers.

Brows knit, he thought about it. Having Trevor inside of him had been nothing like that. There’d been the edge of pain and an overwhelming sense of fullness.

A tiny smile settled on his mouth like a bird hunkering into its nest. But there had been an enormous connection too. Like there was no Trevor and no Adrian, just ‘us.’ 

He would have said it was impossible, but that intense focus Trevor always had when he touched the blonde had heightened exponentially. We were somewhere where there was never going to be anything but ‘us,’ ever again. Somewhere where I could tell him I love him and maybe he would say it back. Somewhere where it was just souls melding.

“It’s such exquisite work, isn’t it? I’m related to the artist, you know.” His mother’s cheerful tones brought him out of his thoughts in a lovely awakening.

“Mother!” he said joyfully, and looked over at her. Lisa Tepes looked regal and every inch her title in the evening dress. 

Deep, rich purple silk velvet held snug to her tall frame and fell in a gentle plume to the floor. Her hair was a sleek, artful twist with a long tumble of curls down her shoulders. Simple sapphire drops glittered from her ears and on her lapel a stunning twist of flowers, leaves, diamonds, and sapphires shone.

His mother owned several René Lalique pieces and it was not a surprise to Adrian that she chose to wear this brooch for the art opening. Trevor will love it, he thought. 

The Art Nouveau look was not something he suspected the sculptor fancied for himself but Adrian knew he would appreciate the history. The ‘L'Anémone de Bois’ brooch was a recent acquisition and one that both he and Sypha had swooned over.

Adrian had seen it on a visit to the Macklowe Gallery last year with Vlad and both men had immediately looked at each other. There’d been no question who they were thinking of. His mother’s face when she’d opened the box between her tea cup and the water glass during their quiet Mother’s Day brunch, had been beautiful.

But when isn’t her face beautiful? He asked himself, even as he opened his arms to a delicate, warm embrace. 

“Adrian, I am so glad you all were able to come.” Lisa said against his shoulder. He held her longer than he’d intended to, just breathing her in and feeling the happiness that comes from being held by unconditional love. "Oh darling, I’ve missed you. I have thought about you so much this past week.” She stroked his shoulder and he felt a sharpness in his nose just before his eyes dampened.

No crying, not right now, he thought as he drew back from her.

“You look spectacular,” he said to her and smiled. She smiled back but her eyes were watchful. She always knows when something is wrong, he thought. It had always been that way.

“What were you thinking, looking at your artwork?” she asked him and he looked back at the winter landscape.

When he’d painted it, he’d been thinking about what parts of himself would always stay hidden because of who he was and what he’d been born into. Now when he looked at it, he thought about the spring that was slumbering inside those forms and the love that would draw them out.

“I was thinking about love and possibilities,” he said softly.

Lisa’s voice was kind and she kept a hand on his arm. “Love is the literal definition of possibility. It’s true when they say all you need is love.” She paused and he turned to her. “I’m not asking you to comment,” she said, “but I would have you know that I am so very happy that you have found love Adrian. It’s an incredibly precious gift.”

Awareness was the sharp acidic burn of turpentine in his nostrils, flaring hard into his perception. “Is it so obvious then?” he whispered, feeling the flush of embarrassment and something close to fear.

Lisa’s smile was tender. “It’s written all over both of you, dearest.”

Adrian closed his eyes. I will have to speak with Sypha. She will need to be more careful and so will I. If Mother can see what we feel for each other, then Father will wonder where Trevor fits in. I need more time to convince him to accept Trevor; to accept the trio.

“I already loved her so much, Mother.” Despite himself he felt the emotion swarming up like an eager cat escaping its cage. He opened his eyes and covered her hand with his. “It’s only deepened, sharpened... it’s like breathing with her lungs in my chest.”

Lisa blinked and then a radiant smile spread across her face. In that moment she was a dazzling portrait of ageless beauty. “Oh Adrian, I am so happy to hear that, truly. I’d always thought that you two understood each other in such a rare and precious way. I know that..."

He knew she was still talking but he’d lost the thread of the conversation and shook his head. His mother paused, looking at him inquiringly. “I’m sorry, I’m confused,” he said. “I thought you said that our love for each other was written all over us?”

It was uncharacteristic of his mother to be flustered but the little flutter of her hands was a dead giveaway. Adrian knew because he did it himself when he was nervous.

“Oh that,” Lisa shook her head. “I simply misunderstood what we were discussing, that’s all.”

What was rising up inside of the painter was so vast and so enormous that it pressed under his skin like an awakening form. There was a massive being coiling inside of him, a thunder god bellowing a truth long sought. It was the earth tipping toward an infinity of euphoria as everything shifted into place in a heartbeat.

“You meant Trevor. You’re saying he loves me.” Adrian looked at her, willing her to tell him. “How do you know that?”

Lisa looked at him. The wise, loving gaze held his and then she sighed. “I have made a mistake here,” she said quietly. “I do not want to interfere with whatever is between you, or speak for him. I can only say that when I met him, it seemed apparent to me. That could mean anything.”

“Mother,” his hand tightened on hers. “Tell me everything, as quickly as you can. I need your advice and I need it now.”

--

When you close your eyes and you go to sleep
And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat
I can hear the things that you're dreamin' about
When you open up your heart and the truth comes out

You tell me that you want me
You tell me that you need me
You tell me that you love me
And I know that I'm right
'Cause I hear it in the night

I hear the secrets that you keep
When you're talking in your sleep
When I hold you in my arms at night

-"Talking In Your Sleep," The Romantics

Notes:

I know you've been waiting for it and yes, it is happening in the next chapter... but which part??
---
Lisa's René Lalique brooch that I would cheerfully mortgage my house for.
---
Adrian's feather bib because it is so freaking coooool.
---
Pictures: Adrian model- Konan Hanbury, Trevor model -Hamid Fadaei, background- Kevin Dorg @Pexels, column photo from Unsplash

Chapter 39: You gotta listen to my words

Summary:

Trevor found himself intrigued by Lady Tepes. The impressions he’d gotten from the ill-fated meeting in her garden strengthened and quickly grew vines that reached into his emotions. 

Adrian’s gentleness and disarming honesty was clearly influenced by her. Clever, charming and down to earth, she was incredibly genuine. The sculptor was struggling to understand how a woman this intelligent and surprisingly wise chose to live this life.

But what staggered Trevor and made his defenses fall away, was the obvious and easy love that she had for her son.

Notes:

CW: Suggestions of abusive relationship/trauma (Hector POV)

Badly Chapter 39

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hector closed the door of the gallery and turned. Madeline hovered anxiously and they both watched the tall, foreboding shadow get into his vehicle. The artistic director turned, careful to keep his expression completely neutral.

“What is going on?” she asked him quietly, alarm plain in her voice. “Do we need to call Edgar?”

“My office, please.” He said softly and she nodded, striding off on long legs.

Hector paused for just a moment and found his gaze pulled back to the vehicle. With a start he realized that Isaac was just sitting in it. As though his own gaze were the cry of hunted prey, the FBI agent’s eyes found his with unerring ease. It was uncomfortably intimate and mildly threatening, just as it had been in the small office.

There will be time to review what it all means later, he thought. Right now you need to assure Madeline.

Throat still dry, the artistic director forced himself to nod slowly to Isaac and leisurely move from the door. Don’t run, that always makes it worse. He hated that thought and how his own personal experience had formed it.

Madeline was seated where Isaac had been during the short, tense exchange. Hector could still smell him, the faint spice and richly bittersweet dollops of fragrance.

“Hector, I think you should call Edgar,” the lovely brunette told him as soon as he appeared. Her fingers were twisted in her pearls and her eyes were worried.

“I need a moment to think first, and then yes, I will be informing the owner.” Three years of training was hard to overcome. Placate, evade, disappear. It was an emotional mantra he was in the process of painting over, with the new brushstrokes still showing the old landscape underneath.

No, he told himself. You don’t need to be afraid of emotions. Madeline is a friend and she will not punish you for not having the answers. It was still work to meet her gaze as he shut the door.

He gave her a small smile and was careful not to move behind her without her knowing. “It has to do with one of the artists we work with and it’s nothing that would endanger any of us.” Coming around the side of the desk, he sat. “He just wanted some information, of which I had precious little to share actually.”

Madeline sucked in her breath and her eyes grew wide. “Christopher is a criminal?!”

You cannot do anything right, he berated himself. So much for calming her. He shook his head. “No Madeline, I don’t believe so.” His gaze drifted to the coffee that the agent had accepted that sat, untouched, on the edge of his desk, “Agent Isaac never said that.”

“Please I know, privacy and all of that, but what is it involving? Just what exactly is the crime?” she pleaded with him. Hector forced his hands to stay calm and his face to remain unmoving.

Madeline please, he begged internally. I just need a moment to not break, to understand that the agent was not here for me, and to decide how I am going to proceed on this. 

To save himself time, he pulled his chair up and folded his hands on top of the desk. Keep your hands in sight, he thought, show you are not threatening or challenging.

“The crime is an unsolved cold case,” he hedged. “And a possible case of mistaken identity.”

He watched her consider that. To an outsider, he looked completely unbothered by all of this. Under the desk his legs were horribly tense, toes curled protectively in his loafers, and there was a sickly knot caught between his heart and collarbone.

Hector avoided confrontations at all costs and this was the second one, albeit much gentler one, in less than 30 minutes.

“So this was just a follow-up?” She asked him, expression as hopeful as a child asking if Santa still existed. Hector hated to lie, hated to fall back on old habits but he nodded. Madeline visibly relaxed and smiled.

“Oh thank you! I am so relieved. I was just afraid it was something really bad.” She chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m such a worrywort, as you know.”

Hector thought of his dog, Cezar, so that his smile could hold real warmth. It was a survival trick he’d learned to ensure his expressions would be harder to decipher. To think of something lovely when you were dying inside.

“I know,” he said gently. “Nothing to worry about but I should call Edgar and let him know.” He would call the gallery owner, that was not a lie. But first he wanted to be alone.

Madeline took the cue. “Of course,” she stood and smoothed her skirt. “Thank you Hector. You’re such a rock, as always.” Her face softened. “I’m really so happy you decided to work with us.”

I’m so grateful to be here and you will never know how much it means, the artistic director thought. “What a kind thing to say, thank you. I am happy to be here.”

With a last smile, Madeline closed the door. Carefully Hector stood, came around his desk and locked the door. Only then did he allow himself to shake. It wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t gradual. It was an earthquake that brought him to his knees in the blink of an eye and brought the sickness right up to his teeth.

I cannot vomit, he thought frantically and pinched his nose, hard. The thoughts came sharp and fast now. 

Isaac wasn’t here for me. She has not found me. I am still safe. There was no suggestion he knows. She did not send him. Hector Fauri is still a safe costume. You can still try. Safe. You are safe. She doesn’t know. She is not here. You do not have to see her.

It seemed the sickness in his belly would be denied but the tears would not. With a silent oath, he yanked back the sleeves of his jacket and dress shirt, bit down hard on his arm, and wept.

Fifteen minutes later a small button winked red on the telephone on Madeline’s desk and she nodded, assured that Hector was calling Edgar. If she’d been in his office she would have heard the calm, deep voice of the artistic director leaving a message on a voicemail he’d previously used. Unlike his previous messages, however, this time he was asking for Trevor Belmont.

---

The guilt was unwelcome but wholly deserved. She’d made an incredible assumption and it was her own fault. I am so sorry Trevor, Lisa thought again, watching the two men discuss the painting on the wall.

It was a painful pleasure to see their careful dance. Knowing what she did now, what her son hoped for from the future, and the entanglement of their lives that had already occurred, the situation could not be more complicated. 

But in this moment all there was were two people desperately in love. They were so young, so fragile, and so woefully afraid. She had not been wrong. It was written all over them, if you knew what to look for.

Lisa was not so old that she couldn’t remember how terrifying it was to feel like that. She’d met Vlad when she was a year younger than her son. The new doctor had not wanted to fall in love. She had not wanted to feel something so enormous for someone with so much complex baggage, and all the consequences of acting on her feelings.

I can relate to how Trevor must feel, she thought again. The sculptor had not verbalized anything to her but she was not a fool. Falling in love with a Tepes was not a comfortable thing. 

Her son was an intense, complicated, beautiful man. As if that wasn’t hard enough, he came with a whole host of inescapable expectations and history. She knew, firsthand, that it was terrifying. Anyone willing to approach that is incredibly brave, she acknowledged.

She knew that some people would think they could accept it; that the money, the fame and the things that both could obtain would balance it out. The truth was those things exacerbated the imbalance and made it harder to keep the relationship authentic.

Watching Trevor discuss a figure in the landscape, and the feelings of isolation that the body language conveyed, her maternal heart sighed. Adrian’s disclosures about his feelings were absurdly familiar, echoing fears and realities that she’d lived through.

It was incredibly worrying, how quickly and truly he’d fallen for Trevor. There was real potential for hurt here and she simply did not know enough about Belmont to see how this would end.

But listen to him, she thought, as the sculptor’s words brought new life to a painting she’d looked at for the last five years. He sees things in Adrian, connects to him in a way that we cannot. She wasn’t so selfless that that knowledge didn’t sting somewhat. 

I’ve known Adrian his entire life, it hurts to think there are whole aspects of him that I didn’t appreciate were there. It wasn’t just what the brunette saw in this painting, although that was fascinating. It was also observing her son watching Trevor.

There was a newness here, hidden planes of existence that winked in and out in their dialogue. Everything that love offered was scattered throughout their interactions like an Easter egg hunt of precious stones. 

Including the agony of it, she reflected unhappily. 

There was an openness in Adrian, a softness and, though it grieved her, a stark vulnerability. It was so plain that the painter had already given his entire heart.

There was serious potential for agony in this for both of them, but also for her. Her son had asked her not to speak to her husband and she had promised. It was not one she made lightly, but had tempered with asking him to tell Vlad as soon as he possibly could.

She and Adrian had not had as much time as she would have liked to discuss Trevor, and part of her wanted to haul him off to finish the conversation. Have you thought about what this means? She wanted to ask. Have you thought about what could happen?

It was an unfair question in a way. Her son should be free to love whom he wanted. She had not lied to him at the lunch; he did not owe anyone an explanation on his romantic connections. That didn’t mean that explanations wouldn’t be demanded or that the process would be easy. 

She’d truly believed that Adrian understood what such a romantic liaison would look like. But she had made two mistakes in that conversation.

The first was assuming the type of man Adrian was talking about. She’d understood that Belmont was proud but she had not realized it was tempered with the same possessiveness that her own husband had. Even in a small dose, that was a real problem for a number of reasons.

The more immediate issue however, was not seeing what her son had meant about a long term connection.

She had not seen the depth of his feelings, or perhaps they weren’t there yet. Either way, she’d thought they were discussing a liaison of affection and desire. She had not envisioned the kind of love that pressed its fingers against your windpipe and choked you until your vision narrowed to just that person.

But that is what this is, she thought as the two men communicated in a thousand tiny gestures. The quirk of a brow, the crinkle of a top lip, fingers that stroked the air but ached for skin--the love thickened the air between them until she could have waded through it. 

Lisa was wise enough to know that this love between Trevor and Adrian was rare. They had not known each other long but it ran deep and saturated the relationship in a way that could be lasting. It tasted like the Guiness that she occasionally enjoyed; complex, opulently potent, with a uniquely unprecedented flavor disguised as something common. 

It made her curious to see Trevor with Sypha. She already knew what the emotions were for her son with his best friend. Although his love for her was an entirely different flavor, it was still just as intense. It shone like a descending sun piercing the clouds and ran as deep as the molten core of the earth. There was a sweetness there, a gentleness that had no bounds.

Vlad often told her that her intuition about people was uncanny. In this instance she wished fervently that she couldn’t see so well. Love like this was not fleeting and it was not shallow. It was everything that a parent could hope for, if Trevor was who he appeared to be.

If Trevor could accept what had to be.

---

He couldn’t stop staring at Adrian and was actively reminding himself to breathe. If they’d been alone there is no way the painter wouldn’t be spread over the fainting couch and gasping his name by now. No way that they wouldn’t be locked in an embrace brimming with the taste of frantic passion and slick limbs.

The painter looked like Maria Renard’s ‘The Prince’ but with a modern twist. The head to toe black with the angelic embroidered wings on his shoulders, the gentle waves of blonde that glistened like sunlight on water, those high cheekbones dusted with shimmer, glossy pink lips, delicately purple lids rimmed with golden eyeliner and framed in darkened, impossibly long lashes--Adrian was royalty from his crown to his feet. 

The faint parting of his lips when he locked eyes with Trevor only heightened the otherworldly beauty of him. Trevor’s heart was in his throat and he was painfully aware that it was pure fortune that Lady Tepes’ back had been to him. She would have seen everything he felt otherwise. 

It would be a miracle if Adrian hadn’t.

On the other hand, the widening of the blonde’s eyes and the tiny lick of his lips suggested that perhaps Adrian was as struck as he was. There’d been no mistaking the appreciative gleam in the painter’s eyes when Trevor had appeared in the door of the drawing room.

He’d seen what the hairdresser had done and agreed he looked less scruffy. He’d grumbled a bit about the foundation but figured whatever, wasn’t the first make up he’d worn. The brown eyeliner had amused him but he just shrugged.

Even the suit wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it might be. He’d been resigned to some staid black and white combination like the suits his parents pressed on him when he couldn’t get out of gallery functions. 

Saint had surprised him with his options. He had desperately wanted to accept the maroon suit with the stunning corset vest but opted for the green. It was fitted though, and Trevor had to admit it had been some time since he’d worn pants that fit like this. 

Think unsexy thoughts, he reminded himself.

Why had he gone with the green? Well, he was honest enough to admit to himself he wanted approval. He wanted to make up for the terrible introduction to Lady Tepes and he wanted something that felt like he had an edge when he met Lord Tepes.

When he’d finished with Saint, and Sypha encountered him exiting the room, he’d enjoyed her bug-eyed, jaw drop, and faux fainting act. She hadn’t even begun getting ready yet, explaining that the hairdresser and make up artist had been with the Tepes’ after Trevor. She would get her clothes first, then her hair.

Apparently she’d been stalking Louis in the kitchen for appetizers instead, because she would miss the cocktails and hor d'oeuvres with the delay. Trevor made a mental note of the name--always good to know who to hit up for food--and asked her where Adrian was. It’d been something he’d had to find out from a maid in the hall.

He’d thought Sypha had been joking about how good he looked, even when she carefully kissed his cheek and murmured, “I’m going to destroy you later.” 

I’m the same person, just with some polish, he thought, amused at what some clothes and a haircut was doing to his lovers.

“There’s something hidden here,” he pointed to the gentle knoll in the foreground and the smooth sweep of blue grey that cut the pristine white. “It’s a swirl of color, only meant to be a shadow perhaps? But it’s also an emotional creature, grief hiding under the snow.”

The appreciative smile of his lover made his fingers itch to stroke over the slight dimple at the corner of Adrian’s mouth. Mindful of Lady Tepes, he simply smiled back and continued. 

“Here, right here?” He pointed at the twisted form of a tree with its stark fingers to the sky. “It’s waiting for spring, stretching toward the sunshine and there is such wistfulness to it. I don’t know how it's there, but it is.”

“Yes,” Adrian murmured and the way he spoke made the sculptor think of the way they’d held each other, a little crush in the corner of the bath, panting together as their hearts beat in tandem.

His eyes dropped again to the slick, full lips and he wanted to tuck his fingertip into the pink shadow of Adrian’s mouth. Remember you are not alone, he reminded himself.

“I don’t know how you did it but I can feel the yearning, the waiting, the hope.” He dropped his hands. “It’s spectacular.” It’s your heart on a canvas, he thought and wished to hold it, just for a moment.

The two men looked at each other and Trevor had to touch, to impart that tiny physical acknowledgement. “Here, let me just fix this for you,” he said, striving for casual, and brought his hands up while stepping into the painter’s space.

The sculptor carefully extracted the three strands of blonde hair caught in the intricate twist of metal in the center of the bow at his throat. It didn’t really need to be done, but when Adrian’s darkened lashes fluttered it was more than enough to appease that needy demon rampaging inside of him.

You are gorgeous, divinity bestowing a kiss, and I am on my knees, the sculptor thought and swept the hair to the side.

“Thank you,” Adrian murmured and smiled.

There was a shifting movement by the door and a servant appeared, murmuring to Lady Tepes. You must be more careful, Trevor told himself. You forgot she was there. He really was trying but this was like a beautiful dream--talking art in a castle before going to see one of his artistic inspirations with Adrian, who looked like a literal Bernini sculpture come to life.

Both men looked at each other once more and Adrian’s smile was a little sad when Trevor stepped back.

“Dinner will be served in five minutes,” Lisa said, turning back to them. “We should probably make our way to the dining room.”

With a grin, Trevor stepped to her and offered his hand. “May I accompany you there?”

On the way to the table, Lisa asked him if he’d enjoyed the process of getting attired for events like this and he chose his words carefully. Apparently not carefully enough because she’d laughed and said that she still found it annoying sometimes too. It surprised him, her candid honesty about how ridiculous it seemed to spend so much time on appearances.

So he was honest in return as he pulled out her chair and settled her at the table. He told her that he’d always found it somewhat tedious simply because appearances made no difference in knowing who the real person was.

Her agreement and observation that sometimes it was a type of deception was even more surprising. When the țuică was served with the small platters of tomatoes on sourdough drizzled with pesto and balsamic vinegar, the conversation had turned to whether or not you really could judge a book by its cover.

Trevor found himself intrigued by Lady Tepes. The impressions he’d gotten from the ill-fated meeting in her garden strengthened and quickly grew vines that reached into his emotions. 

Adrian’s gentleness and disarming honesty was clearly influenced by her. Clever, charming and down to earth, she was incredibly genuine. The sculptor was struggling to understand how a woman this intelligent and surprisingly wise chose to live this life.

But what staggered Trevor and made his defenses fall away, was the obvious and easy love that she had for her son. Watching them together was witnessing something precious and he ached for his own mother. It had been easy like this with Penelope when he’d been younger and he wondered if maybe it could have been again had she lived.

Adrian snickered over Lisa’s uncharitable assessment of someone named Clarence as a hollow hardboiled egg stuffed with unwarranted ego. “Poke him and there comes the ego!” his lover commented as the first course came.

Tucking into a delicate salad of figs and feta on spinach with a smoky peach vinaigrette, Trevor was grateful that he remembered how the place settings worked. “Coworkers can be fun,” he commented offhandedly.

“I feel like there is a story there,” Lisa said with a smile.

Ooops, I didn’t mean to open that door, he thought and sought for a safe story about his work history.

“One coworker of mine, a while back, had a tendency to sneak his boyfriend into the workplace. It made for some interesting encounters.”

Lisa’s eyebrows arched and Trevor wondered if it was too risque. “If you are going to sneak your lover in for a quick tumble, don’t get caught.” She commented.

He blinked and then grinned. “Now I definitely feel like there is a story there!” he said with relish, and she laughed, easy and amused.

“Oh there is but,” she inclined her head to Adrian who was studiously studying the pattern on the plate for his dinner roll, “my son might be truly scandalized.”

“Your son might not be scandalized,” Adrian reached for his water, “but he most assuredly doesn’t need to know what his mother got up to with his father.”

“Oh no Adrian, did the stork drop you off?” Trevor teased and the painter made a face.

“As far as I want to think about it, yes.” Adrian said in his snooty duchess voice and Trevor’s thighs tensed.

I want to haul you onto this table when you talk like that, the brunette thought and stabbed his salad instead.

“So what was the workplace? Are you still friends with the boyfriend sneaker?” Lisa asked, and Trevor almost choked on his salad.

He immediately thought of Greg, the leggy redhead who’d specialized in corporate gatherings who liked to sneak his boyfriend, Jeff, in as a waiter or usher. He had no idea what happened to him and for a moment, he felt sad about that. Greg had been very kind to him and had suggested a number of things that had protected Trevor from getting caught in some fairly perilous situations.

“Unfortunately I lost touch with him. We worked with party promoters,” he hedged. The truth was a tad more complicated but this was close enough.

“Really?” Adrian leaned forward, “How fascinating!”

Trevor thought of the insane mix of drugs, emotion, sex, and fear that swirled around him during that time and how hard he’d worked to stay out of it as much as possible. More like ‘terrifying,’ he thought. It’d been a matter of survival and he’d learned some hard lessons along the way.

“It was something else,” he said ruefully.

“How long ago was this?” Adrian asked innocently, and Trevor’s gut clenched. He didn’t want to get into this too much because it would inevitably come to why he’d left that scene. The ugliness that waited in a basket on the shelf of his memories loomed. He would never willingly share it with anyone.

“Oh, it's been a while now. I’m lucky, I don’t have to work this year, which has been so nice. I’ve been meaning to ask you, why do you do the teaching assistant position? Do you want to be a teacher?”

He didn’t miss the understanding on Lisa’s face and wondered if she’d caught the side step. Too perceptive, he thought again.

“I would love to teach in some capacity,” Adrian said and sighed. “But it’s unlikely, given my responsibilities.”

It irked the sculptor, so he chose his words carefully. “Surely you could at least teach as a sessional lecturer once your degree is done?”

“No, it’s too much of a security, privacy and coverage issue for any institution that would employ me.” Adrian’s face was calm but his brows knit.

“But the college is, right now and the students love you!” Trevor worked on his tone but he couldn’t help it. It felt like he was arguing something really vital here, more than just a job. “Wouldn’t it be worth it to at least see?”

Lisa’s voice was gentle but admonishing. “Trevor, have you seen the coverage on Shaft? It’s all over the news.”

“Yes, I know but that’s an unusual situation. Most of the time it would just be business as usual, right?” He didn’t hear the irritation in his voice but she did. It worried her, even as she appreciated it.

“No, I am sorry, I mean to say that the coverage is only there because of Adrian’s involvement. To be frank, no one would care, if not for his part in it.” She was calm but Trevor’s resentment hardened.

It’s not fair, he retorted in his head. It’s not like he chose this, now is it?

“The school takes a massive blow to their good will and public persona because of this coverage. We compensate them accordingly. We also work closely with them to ensure that Adrian is free from harassment, and to be blunt, media, while he attends. You don’t see it but there’s a substantial amount of funds, security and negotiation with that school to allow his education.”

So it’s the price of your life, so that he can try to live his. That’s not his problem, it’s yours and you are making it his, the sculptor thought.

“It’s a very selfish thing,” Adrian said quietly. “I am fully aware of the cost to everyone involved but I wanted to pretend, for a while, that I could carve out a place where I have merit on my own.”

“Sweetheart, don’t--” Lisa began, turning to her son. 

At the same time, Trevor hissed, “It’s bullshit!”

“Stop,” the painter said, looking at one and then the other. “Please. We were having a lovely time and I don’t want to ruin it with a boring reality.”

Like limbs caught in a collapsing tent, Trevor’s fury was pressed into the moulds of grief. Helpless and afraid of his own vulnerability over something that mattered so much, and he was powerless to change, the brunette stood abruptly. Adrian stood quickly and looked across at him.

“Please, it’s alright, please sit,” the painter said, bleak concern etched on his features like copper in an acid bath.

“I can’t--” Trevor began and Lisa stood.

“Trevor, if I may, could we speak for a moment?” She looked at her son. “Alone?”

Temper made way for desperate fear. Oh fuck, oh hell, I have ruined this, I have completely blown it because I couldn’t accept-- He watched Adrian nod and Lisa looked back at the brunette.

“Please come with me,” she said and walked briskly away. He had no choice but to follow.

---

Lisa took him to her office. It was the one place she knew they would not be disturbed and she’d wanted the two minutes of travel to decide what to say once they got there. How much to say and how to say it? 

She was a very blunt person and even with over twenty years of social savvy under her belt there were times she just wanted to speak her mind. This was one of them.

When they strode into her space and she turned to Belmont, she saw fear, frustration and regret. Be gentle, she told herself, but be clear.

“Please shut the door,” she asked and he did. When he turned back to her, she indicated a chair and he shook his head.

He surprised her by speaking first. “I seem to always be apologizing to your son. It should not surprise me then, that would extend to you. I am sorry. I spoke out of turn in the dining room and I shouldn’t have. Adrian is very dear to me and I am struggling to understand his--”

“Stop,” Lisa said, holding up her hand. “I don’t mean to be rude and thank you, but let’s just be plain, shall we?”

Trevor’s sharp inhale made her nod. “You love him very much and it’s incredibly obvious. That’s not a problem if you don’t care about having a future with him, but it really is if you want a chance in hell of this working.”

Trevor closed his eyes. “And if I tell you I don’t love him?”

Lisa chose to sit. It might make him feel less attacked and more open to what she was going to say. “I would say, not unkindly, that is utter horseshit.”

She enjoyed how his eyes popped open at her oath and his brow quirked. She’d chosen to swear to put him at ease and hopefully make him feel less antagonistic.

“You want us to be just friends,” he said, “or you’ll forbid him from seeing me.”

Is this what he told you or is this what you think? Neither option was comforting and it made her concern deepen.

“Do you think that is even possible? You are ready to battle the devil for him, your whole body is braced for it,” she responded.

“I can’t lose him.” Trevor said and those four words told her everything.

“You don’t have to lose him but you do need to do a better job of accepting him,” she said slowly. “You have to understand what risks his happiness, and what is worth trying to change.”

“So I have to pretend to everyone that I don’t love him.” Trevor flexed his fingers. “Believe it or not, I was just trying that. Unsuccessfully it seems.”

Unsuccessfully indeed, she thought but didn’t share that. Instead she sighed.

“I don’t know you and you don’t know me. There are aspects of my life that are insane and I know that. There are things about it that have damaged my son in ways I never could have predicted, and I have to live with that. I am trying to mitigate that as much as possible but truthfully I didn’t really become aware of how deeply it ran until recently.”

Trevor’s face was hopeful wariness. I’m sorry to let you down, she thought with a heavy heart.

“That being said, there are things about his life that I cannot change and I cannot take back. He is the only heir to an empire. That comes with things that mean he doesn’t live a ‘normal’ life and he never will. It means that the choices he makes are weighed on an international scale.”

The sculptor snarled. “It means he’s trapped.”

Heart in her throat like a wailing dolphin caught in a net, she swallowed the angry retort. He was right and she resented it. It was black and white to him and as much as she wanted him to see the grey, she could understand why he didn’t.

Instead she nodded. “In a manner of speaking, in some respects, yes, he is trapped.”

“Can he walk away from it all?” Trevor asked, that intense fury rolling off of him like a slide of melting snow off a cliff.

Thank the stars you will never suggest that to my husband because I am not sure you would make it out of the house alive, she thought.

Lisa inhaled deeply. “Perhaps. It’s very hard to say. He’s young, beautiful, intriguing and unlikely to be stripped of his title so probably not.” She looked at Trevor and allowed him to see the steel in her. “The more important question would be, is he walking away for himself or for someone else?”

It pleased her that she saw him process that, and not just deflect or ignore it. It was encouraging and told her that he wasn’t completely ruled by emotion.

“He is not happy,” Trevor finally whispered. At that moment she decided to trust him.

“It’s more complicated than that Trevor.  I will be blunt with you; trusting you to keep this to yourself.” He looked wary again but nodded. “Adrian’s relationship with his father and his responsibilities has progressed significantly in the last two years. I truly believe, given time and space, that an accord could be reached on what his future might look like.”

Trevor opened his mouth and she could see from the blue fury of his gaze that his words would not be friendly. She shook her head and held up a finger. “I am asking you to ignore whether you think it's right or wrong, and just listen, please.”

The sculptor crossed his arms but he did not speak. “Thank you. My point is this. You love him and you want to be with him.” She smiled encouragingly. “From everything I have seen thus far, I support this.” She watched his hard swallow and the lines around his eyes tense. 

“However, as frustrating as it is to admit this, your true relationship with him is something that needs to be introduced slowly to the world and,” she sighed, “to his father.” She waited for a beat, “Especially with Sypha’s involvement.”

Trevor jerked and for a moment she had a glimpse of what Vlad must have looked like at age; proud, strong, powerful and ruthless when threatened.

“Because three people in love is unusual, or because I am a man?” He asked her with scorn.

“Neither one matters to me,” she said with honest and measured tones. “But I am not so foolish as to think this is true for other people.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Trevor asked her after a long moment. His voice was shockingly neutral, devoid of the anger that had been there scant seconds before, and his hands were in his pockets.

“Because believe it or not, I love my son more than anything and I want him to be happy. I can offer him happiness after a fashion. But with you and Sypha he is more than happy, he is home.”

As a doctor, Lisa had seen people struggle with bad news and light up with good. She’d seen the most fundamental moments of humanity in birth, death, agony and triumph. Trevor’s face held a fullness of emotion that was almost painful to behold. It settled into tired lines and he spoke.

“Do you know about my parents?” he asked her and she nodded. “Is that another strike against me as well? Or have I somehow been spared that?”

“Truthfully I have not probed that deeply into it.” Lisa looked at him and saw old, festering wounds. “It would be the kind of thing that would have to be handled delicately, but what do I think personally? You were innocent; I don’t believe in the sins of the father.”

“You would be the first,” he whispered and she heard it in his voice. “You, Sypha and Adrian.”

You don’t believe me, she thought and wondered. “Would you please sit?” she asked and he took a seat.

“We’ve shared some heavy truths here and it’s impossibly intimate for the amount of knowledge we have of each other. We need to return to the table, Sypha and Vlad will be there soon and Adrian is likely wringing his hands.”

Trevor’s quick snort and half-grin was encouraging. “He always gives himself away with that, doesn’t he?”

“He wears his heart on his sleeve,” she said and almost added, ‘with those he loves,’ before she caught herself.  I am not making that mistake twice today, she thought.

“He does.” Blue eyes of impossible depth met hers. “I love him more than I can stand.”

Her smile was warm and welcoming. “And I am grateful for that. He is lucky to have you.”

The shock on the sculptor’s face was a rough scrape on her heart. You are worthy, she told him silently and slowly reached for his hand. He watched her reach out and pause, inches from his. He bridged the small distance and with a hitched breath, his hand rested in hers.

She covered his hand with her other one and looked at him again. “I am asking you to trust me and I know that is difficult. I am asking for time when everything seems urgent and desperate. For tonight, let us all just be. Adrian and Vlad haven’t seen each other in months and this Shaft business,” his hand tensed in hers. “Put everyone on edge.”

“That was my fault,” Trevor said softly. “Shaft has a personal vendetta against my family. I am so sorry, Adrian could have been seriously hurt.”

Trevor was a man and she knew that, but sometimes you could hear the boy murmuring under the baritone. Maternal instincts were strong in Lisa and she trusted them. Scooting toward him on her chair, she lifted the hand on top of his to cup his cheek. 

“I am sorry that you would blame yourself for something entirely out of your control. I’m especially sorry that you don’t understand that the concern is not just for Adrian’s safety, but also your own. No one blames you for what happened, please don’t blame yourself.”

His jaw clenched under her hand and he surprised her again. “You mean that.” His voice was thick but there was an awe in it. “You wouldn’t blame me for this, and you don’t blame me for what my parents did. You don’t even blame me for loving your son.”

He was so earnest, and so unsure. Intentionally or not, Trevor had neatly sidestepped all her reservations and tucked himself under her heart to be absorbed into a space she was very careful with opening.

Adrian sure can pick them, she thought with a wry amusement. Sypha had been just as quick to nuzzle into her heart and she had worried many nights about what she would do if Adrian and Sypha never acted on the obvious love between them. I should have known it would take a man as reckless, proud and beautiful as this one to bring them together.

She stroked Trevor’s cheek and looked him in the eyes. “No Trevor Belmont, I feel blessed that you love him.”

“May I press my luck and give you a hug?” he asked quietly and Lisa laughed.

“I live for them; you never have to ask!” she said as she stood, expecting a big bear hug. Instead, he gently enveloped her in an embrace that stung her eyes.

It’s going to be alright, she thought, as she softly patted his back. I promise.  

----

When Trevor walked back into the dining room, Adrian’s relief was huge. His posture was casual and … he studied the brunette's face, relaxing minutely. Trevor was not upset. Still, the sculptor wasn’t looking at him, but turned to extend his hand to Lisa.

His mother appeared behind his lover, and caught the blonde’s eye, offering him a radiant smile. It’s alright, he thought and stood. The server discreetly exited, likely to inform the kitchen staff that the meal could continue.

“Trevor, why don’t you sit next to Adrian instead of across? I don’t know where Vlad or Sypha are and it will make it more balanced…” Trevor gave her shoulder a small, brief squeeze and pulled out what was now her chair.

The painter wasn’t sure if he was more surprised at the gesture coming from Trevor, or at his mother’s ease with it.

“Thank you, Lady Tepes,” his lover said and there was a gratitude in it that made Adrian confused and happy all at once.

“Think nothing of it, and please, just Lisa,” she said and sat, gesturing to the second server to exchange their place settings. It was done before Trevor had even rounded the table. Lady Tepes set about finishing her salad with a sigh of contentment.

Heart pounding Adrian waited for Trevor to seat himself and then, like a child sneaking out of their bedroom, inched his hand along the edge of his thigh toward the sculptor under the table. He couldn’t reach all the way across without being obvious, but on the slim chance that the brunette did the same thing they could-- his fingertips brushed Trevor’s and they turned to each other.

“I’m sorry we left you alone so long,” Trevor said calmly while he slowly stroked the top of Adrian’s index finger.

The blonde swallowed hard. The fingertip dance was unaccountably seductive and he felt his flush rising. “It’s alright, although I am happy you are back.” He stroked back, the rough callous on the side of Trevor’s thumb making his toes curl.

The door behind them opened and Trevor casually brought his hand up to the table to grasp his dinner fork.

It felt like a little punishment, even as he appreciated the sculptor taking the precaution. “I am glad to be back and see what--” Trevor started to answer.

“Ah! Finally!” the deep voice rumbled out and Adrian saw Trevor’s stiffened response.

Father, the painter thought.

--

 

I've listened to preachers
I've listened to fools
I've watched all the dropouts
Who make their own rules
One person conditioned to rule and control
The media sells it and you live the role

Mental wounds still screaming
Driving me insane
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

I know that things are going wrong for me
You gotta listen to my words, yeah

Heirs of a cold war
That's what we've become
Inheriting troubles I'm mentally numb
Crazy, I just cannot bear
I'm living with something' that just isn't fair

Mental wounds not healing
Who and what's to blame
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

-"Crazy Train," Ozzy Osborne

Notes:

What kind of asshole ends on that note?? *chortles*
Want the good news? I have part of the next chapter done already! Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy; take care! 💝🌺
---
Trevor Belmont- It Started Out Badly
This gorgeous Trevor in his green suit is a gift from my dear friend amouredescort!! Feast your eyes on our man 🔥
Please check their work out here! It is sublime!
---
Trevor: Hamid Fadaei, Adrian: Andrej Pejic, Lisa Photographer: (model unknown) Alexander Krivitskiy @ Pexels, painting from Paul Blenkhorn @ Pexels, castle from Bernardo Lorena Ponte @ Unsplash.

Chapter 40: I've found a balloon

Summary:

It hit like a rampaging bull and Trevor felt like an utter fool. He doesn’t accept his father’s money for himself.  Why had he not realized this before? It was so obvious now; the scholarship, the layaway, the fridge that was stocked with enough food for a month that Lisa had sent as ‘leftovers.’ Sypha’s observation that they were both fucked up about money. He just hadn't seen it.

Vlad continued in his reproachful tone, “There is more than enough-.” Trevor felt Adrian’s tense press against his thumb and readied a distracting question. Lisa broke in with one of her own.

Lady Tepes looked at Trevor and asked, “Has he shown you his Christopher Wise pieces yet? That’s a perfect example of what he’d go hungry for.”

Notes:

It Started Out Badly Chapter 40

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

There was no mistaking the aura when he walked in the room. This was a man with enormous power, who was very at ease with it. Lord Tepes. Vlad Dracula. The man who captivated the globe with his mystery, arrogance, wealth and title.

Here goes nothing, Trevor thought, taking Vlad in as he sauntered forward.

Black power suit with a subtle dragon motif picked out in silk on the lapels. Dress shirt the color of ripe mulberries with an elaborate cravat in flowing pleats. It was fastened with a gold brooch set with a thumb-sized stone the color of beets and surrounded by tiny filigreed bats. Salt and pepper hair that was unusually long and thick. Neatly trimmed moustache and beard. Not a hair out of place, not a flaw to be seen.

Vlad went straight to Lisa, cupping her cheek and kissing her tenderly; his thumb moving over her skin. If it wasn’t so achingly adoring Trevor might have felt embarrassed by the romantic moment.

Instead he felt something he never expected to feel with this man in the same room. Trevor felt peaceful contentment. It was the taste of something so comfortably welcoming that it settled in his heart like a cat finding its nest in the sun. 

Lisa drew back and smiled. Vlad smiled back, eyes soft. The love between them was so apparent that it warmed the room as though someone had lit the fire in the hearth. “Inima mea,*” Vlad murmured to her. It had the same cadence of the language Adrian had spoken in Lindenfeld’s. 

I’m betting that is Romanian, he thought. I should just ask.  Vlad straightened up. Taller than I thought, Trevor realized. The man was imposing, thicker in the chest and shoulders than Adrian and just as tall. The painter had more of the willowy build of his mother.

There was something in the way Adrian’s father moved that commanded obedience and respect. Used to getting his way, the sculptor thought. Trevor could only imagine the explosions between them if he’d been Vlad’s son and living under the public eye like the painter did.

Or if we disagreed on Adrian, he thought, with a sudden thread of concern. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t already disagree with a number of things that Vlad had stipulated for his son. The sculptor floundered for a moment. Suddenly Adrian’s submissiveness seemed less inherent and more trained. His stomach rolled.

So it was a disarming surprise all over again when Vlad Dracula lit up at seeing his son. To watch him round the table eagerly, with his arms open and genuine excitement creasing his face. “Adrian! I’m so glad you could make it!”

The blonde stood and smiled back. Trevor could hear the pleasure and comfortable devotion in the painter’s voice. “Father, you look wonderful, it’s been too long.”

The two men embraced and the brunette saw the deep love in Vlad’s contented expression. I was wrong about Lisa and now I am wrong about Vlad,  Trevor reflected with hope. The thought was nudged aside by Lisa’s gentle words: ‘your true relationship is something that needs to be introduced slowly to his father.’ 

Be patient, wait and see, he told himself. Trevor slowly stood, unwilling to meet Lord Tepes while he was on his ass. Already did that with Lisa, he thought, only slightly disconcerted by it now.

Unusual and intriguing eyes of deep maroon clapped onto him and Vlad patted Adrian’s back before releasing him.

“You must be the Belmont boy!” He thundered happily and offered his hand.

The dozen scenarios Trevor had been playing out in his head did not have this pleasant greeting in it. Remember he just knows you as Sypha’s boyfriend, he reminded himself. Trevor had to slightly look up to meet his gaze. Was everyone in this family Treebeard?

“I am, sir. Trevor Belmont, pleased to meet you.” He took the large, tapered hand and matched his hold to the firm but not overpowering grip.

“Sypha speaks very highly of you, and I see she has cause to!” Vlad grinned and Trevor found himself grinning back.

“She’s a sweetheart. I’m very lucky.” The sculptor commented as the men released their handshake.

“Please sit, let’s eat. We don’t want to be late,” Vlad indicated Trevor’s chair and went back around the table to sit beside Lisa. He took her hand and the loose embrace of their fingers on the gleaming wood pressed against Trevor’s heart.

“Sypha is the most charming and clever of women,” Vlad glanced with a warm smirk at Lisa. “Women who aren’t already taken, that is.”

“Oh please!” Lisa chuckled, “Sypha is amazing, you don’t have to modulate that on my account.”

“I’m stating a fact, love, not modulating anything.” Vlad arched a brow at his wife and beamed at her.

It’s hard to believe that they’ve been married… what, twenty two years? No, that can’t be right, it’s got to be at least twenty four? But they are so affectionate! The brunette thought about it and decided to ask.

“May I ask how long you’ve been married?” Trevor inquired politely as the dish of curried chicken on rice was placed before him.

Lisa laughed. “I’m sure Adrian would say too long; my son is very patient with us.”

“You would be wrong, Mother,” the blonde said joyfully. “It makes me very happy to see you both happy.”

Vlad chuckled, “Well it does now. I distinctly remember gagging noises when you were eleven.”

“Oh please, Vlad, that was half a lifetime ago, obviously he’s changed.” Lisa chided gently. She smiled at the blonde. “He’s grown up, and sees with a man’s eyes now.”

Adrian toasted her with his wine glass and Vlad looked over to his son. “It’s true, and the color of them has deepened too. Do you know they used to be more yellow, Trevor? Now they are distinctly gold.”

“They weren’t yellow Father, just paler gold.” Adrian corrected with a sigh. “You make it sound like I had cat eyes or something.”

“I was there my boy, I remember what they looked like, and actually, cat eyes aren't wrong!” Vlad laughed.

Mild annoyance rose in Trevor over the use of ‘boy.’ He may have meant it affectionately, after all Adrian is his son. It still irked him. He sliced into his chicken.

“I wish I’d had other cat attributes when I was a child.” Adrian swirled the wine in his glass and set it down. “The ability to always land on my feet would have been nice during riding lessons. I was unseated so many times in the beginning!” 

“But you were so determined to get back up, weren’t you?” Lisa said, admiration in her gaze. “And look at you now, an accomplished rider with medals in the equitation class.”

“Mother, that was years ago, you know I haven’t done that since I was 18,” Trevor could hear the embarrassment creeping in but he was fascinated. He realized he didn't really know much about Adrian's childhood beyond what he'd absorbed secondhand from the media.

“I didn’t know you competed!” Trevor said, looking at him. “That’s so cool! Was Luna your jumper? She’s very good.”

Adrian looked amused and then wistful. “Luna is an excellent jumper, that is one of the reasons Father owns her--”

“She’s yours, not mine,” his father interjected and out of the corner of his eye Trevor could see Vlad’s frown.

Adrian arched a brow but simply continued. “Luna is actually a recent addition to the stables.” He looked down, long lashes shielding the harvest moon eyes. “I had another jumper, Fantomă, when I was competing but…”

“Some fool rider took him over a downed log during his morning run and there was a mire. It looked like a puddle but it wasn’t. We had to put him down immediately.” There was something menacing in Vlad’s knit brows and Trevor held his breath. “Damned waste.”

“Adrian was at school,” Lisa said quietly. “He didn’t even get to say goodbye.” There was regret in her voice and a wealth of understanding.

Trevor ducked his head to catch Adrian’s gaze and when the blonde looked up, the sculptor said, “I know it’s not the same as Fantomă, but I had a gorgeous girl, Morning Star. I got her when I was thirteen. I’d been riding for two years and I wanted my own horse. She was my baby. When,” he swallowed, “everything happened, I lost her. I don’t even know where she went or who has her. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Adrian whispered. “Like you’ve lost something of yourself and you didn’t even know it until they are gone.”

Trevor put his hand on Adrian’s shoulder briefly and squeezed before letting go. “I’m glad you kept riding though, that’s important,” he said. “It’s a way of remembering Fantomă and what he meant to you.”

I wish I could have done the same, Trevor thought but ignored that.

“Were you able to do that? After Morning Star?” Lisa asked him. 

Damn it. Trevor looked back at her, flippant remark ready, and the empathy on her face staggered him. Vlad was looking at him with a considering, concerned gaze but Lisa’s compassionate empathy was sketched out in her eyes. Just like Adrian; heart on her sleeve, he thought. It was the reason he gave her the truth.

“Unfortunately no. Things were complicated and it wasn’t possible. But I do need to thank you again for the opportunity today, it was very… bittersweet.” He tried to swallow the emotion in his throat but it snuck out on the last word.

“I’m surprised that your relatives wouldn’t have-,” Vlad began and Trevor couldn’t bear it.

Here we go, he thought with resignation and cut in. “Pardon me for interrupting sir, but for simplicity’s sake allow me to be blunt. My relatives disowned me after the scandal with my parents. I am sure you are aware of the fire, the forgeries, the investigation?” Vlad’s face was unreadable but he nodded. 

Feeling like he was wedged between tectonic plates that were slowly compressing his lungs, the sculptor kept going. “I am an orphan of little means. I got odd jobs, obtained my high school diploma through a free public library program and made my way in the world. Much of what had been possible before the death of my parents is no longer possible.” He took a steadying breath and pulled on his pride.

Chin set, shoulders squared and eyes on the Tepes patriarch, he finished. “But I am not my parents. Yes, I am a Belmont, but I am redefining what that means to the world and hopefully to you.”

There was a collective pause around the table and no one spoke. Great, Trevor thought.

“You are an extraordinary man,” Lisa said calmly. “Your parents taught you a great deal about personal discipline and integrity.”

The tectonic plates rumbled, spitting Trevor out into the cool, deep, serene sea. Of all the things she could have said, this cleaved him open in a single stroke. “My parents were deeply flawed but they loved me very much,” he whispered.

“They seemed like really wonderful people,” Vlad agreed.

Trevor’s skin prickled and everything sharpened in the dining room until it practically sparkled. Lisa and Adrian were staring at Vlad, who seemed unaware of the scrutiny as he cut a bite of chicken.

“You met them?” Trevor asked, wincing at the edge in his voice. He couldn’t help it; he had been sure that Isaac was bullshitting.

“Yes, I bought two paintings for the Royal Romanian Art Gallery,” Vlad said calmly and then looked up. He looked surprised by the staring before an expression of dawning understanding took over.

“Oh! Sorry, no! It’s not like I knew them!” He gave a regretful shrug. “But they were very knowledgeable, warm and kind. You get a feeling for authenticity.” He looked at Lisa and she nodded. “It’s a rare thing in the world we live in.”

That explained it, Trevor thought, settling into the reasoning. He flushed under the kind words about people that had meant everything to him but he only ever heard terrible things about now. “Thank you,” the sculptor said, taking a breath and telling himself to relax.

“Of course.” Vlad rumbled, his voice warm. Trevor reached for his water. “So you ride, that’s wonderful! What other sports do you play?” the older man asked lightly.

The water was cool and the change of topic was appreciated. “Ah, I don’t really anymore. I used to.”

“Sypha mentioned something about martial arts?” Lisa chimed in.

“Yes, I actually took two different types. Fencing and rugby as well.” It was sweet when Adrian grinned.

“I didn’t know you fenced!” Adrian’s excitement was plain. “We definitely need to spar sometime, that is wonderful!” He looked at his mother with a teasing smile. “I need the practice if I am ever going to beat Mother.”

Lady Tepes sniffed dramatically. “There can be only one, Adrian!” she mimicked in an amusing exaggeration of Vlad’s accent and pitch.

Vlad snorted. “Even I can’t beat her. She’s ridiculously fast.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know that you let me win.”

“No I don’t; I am not a gentleman when it comes to fencing!” Vlad grumbled good naturedly. “It’s a life or death struggle for supremacy!” His dramatic tones brought a grin to Trevor’s face. 

I never expected to like him this much, he thought. No wonder Sypha was so adamant that I gave the Tepes’ a chance.

He was glad he had. With Lisa now fully aware of his feelings for Adrian and seemingly approving of them, the process of acceptance might be considerably less painful than he’d assumed.

"Speaking of life and death struggles, we should toss the pigskin around tomorrow,” Vlad proposed. “Julius and Daniel play, we could have a go.”

Regretfully Trevor shook his head. “I’m sorry sir, I really shouldn’t, for medical reasons.”

“What medical reasons?” Adrian asked, swivelling his head to look at the sculptor.

“Nothing major, don’t worry. I’m just supposed to avoid any head trauma so I-.”

Adrian hissed. “So, like being punched in the face?”

Belated Trevor realized where this was going. It’s fine, Adrian, don’t go there. Trevor sidestepped the reason that Adrian would have punched him the only way he knew how. He smiled at his lover’s parents. 

“Adrian knows I put my martial arts training into practice to earn money for college last year. I overdid it a little bit and have to be careful now.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “Not a huge loss really.”

Lisa let out a distressed murmur and shook her head. “Concussions are serious Trevor, how many have you had?”

He had a sinking feeling. The sculptor did not want to get into everything that had happened, or what he’d had to do to make ends meet. The truth was he didn’t know how concussions there had been. By the time he’d found a free clinic and gotten in, all they’d been able to tell him was it had happened more than once so he needed to be very careful in the future.

“Enough to know that I want to safeguard whatever passes for brains in my noggin,” he said light-heartedly. “But it was worth it. My education, my art; it’s my dream and my future.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Adrian’s jaw clench and crept his hand carefully toward the painter under the table. Slim fingertips were waiting for him and pressed into his flesh painfully tight. He could practically feel the blonde’s distress hammering against him.  I’m sorry, he thought as he stroked over the elegant fingers in tiny soothing caresses.

“You do sculpture, is that right?” Lisa asked, putting her fork down and reaching for her wine.

“I do, I have since I was a child. It’s all I ever wanted.” He latched onto the familiar topic happily. It was a lot safer and less fraught than the previous one. You thought that about the last one, try to stay on target this time, he told himself.

“You and my son have that in common,” Vlad observed drily. “I swear his first word was ‘art.’”

Lisa scoffed. “Oh please, it was ‘Gogoși’ except he couldn’t say it, so it just sounded like ‘gogos’.”

Adrian chuckled, “I am still weak for those, especially the lemon ones.” He looked at Trevor with a soft smile. “They are fried dough balls with icing sugar and lemon peel. I am not huge on sweets but I have a soft spot for them.”

“I’m just saying, obsessively fixated on art is something they have in common.” Vlad shrugged.

“I can’t deny that,” Trevor said with a laugh. “Art is like the blood in my veins. When a piece catches my eye I would go hungry for it.”

Lisa sighed, “Oh no, there are two of you.” She said it teasingly, with a soft smile. “Adrian does that for art and for clothes.”

Why would he go hungry for what he…?

“Mother, I don’t-,” Adrian began and she gave him a look. “Okay, sometimes but-.”

“Should I ask Saint to come down here when he is done with Sypha?” she asked him and Adrian narrowed his eyes.

“Touché,” the blonde said.

“You are choosing to go hungry,” Vlad sighed heavily.

It hit like a rampaging bull and Trevor felt like an utter fool. He doesn’t accept his father’s money for himself.  Why had he not realized this before? It was so obvious now; the scholarship, the layaway, the fridge that was stocked with enough food for a month that Lisa had sent as ‘leftovers.’ Sypha’s observation that they were both fucked up about money. He just hadn't seen it.

Vlad continued in his reproachful tone, “There is more than enough-.” Trevor felt Adrian’s tense press against his thumb and readied a distracting question. Lisa broke in with one of her own.

Lady Tepes looked at Trevor and asked, “Has he shown you his Christopher Wise pieces yet? That’s a perfect example of what he’d go hungry for.” The sculptor bobbled his spoonful of rice and put it down quickly.

“Umm, somewhat. There was a mention of Wise in Adrian’s class but I was late that day. He bought two pieces I believe?” The painter’s fingers slid away from him and Trevor turned to him in time to see the blonde casually cup the side of his throat and roll his neck. Trevor knew he was pressing into the bruises on his skin. The flare of possession was intense; he could feel Adrian’s arch under him and the yielding softness of his flesh caught in the sculptor’s teeth. The brunette’s lips tingled with licks of ghosted sensation.

“Christopher is superb,” Adrian said calmly, letting his hand drop to the table and his spoon.

“I enjoyed his work,” Lisa agreed. “There was raw passion in it, something mysterious and wild. Adrian was in love the moment he saw the artworks.”

Don’t be flustered, don’t react. As far as you are concerned, they aren’t talking about you, the brunette thought, even as he felt the intense pleasure of their words. Adrian was in love the moment he saw them. He shouldn’t internalize that as love for him but he couldn’t help it. It was one more ice cube in a cup full of hope that was threatening to overflow.

“Well, I would like to see them sometime,” he said quietly. I must tell him, I can't wait any longer.

“Adrian is going to Wise’s opening, a week from today actually,” Lisa said. “Vlad and I were debating attending as well.”

“Sypha is coming too,” Adrian said, scooping up some curried chicken. Trevor’s dismay and amazement was a towering tsunami and he reached up to rake his hair. “Don’t mess with your hair, remember?” the painter said quickly and the brunette stopped.

“Right, haha, sorry, I never have styled hair.” Adrian’s smile was easy and he nodded.

“Anyway, you should come, if you aren’t busy,” the blonde said. There was something in his face and Trevor looked at him. “No problem if you are.” Adrian looked away.

I could swear he knows, Trevor thought but discarded it. It wasn’t possible. No one knew and there was no way to trace it.

“I would love to go,” the sculptor said sincerely. I will have told you by then, explained why. He had to because he was lying now and never wanted to do that with his lovers.

“What is your sculpture medium?” Vlad asked and Trevor explained the difference between metal work and found materials. How he moved between the two and why. Lisa’s question about welding took them into a conversation about sculpture versus mixed media.

The Tepes’ had an impressive wealth of art history knowledge, which shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. It made Trevor feel right at home and heartsick for his parents. Art and the creators of it, was something that had been a constant discussion in his home.

He’d expected Vlad to appreciate art for it’s value and prestige, but listening to the man discuss the lightness of Monet’s water lilies and how they fragmented like a bittersweet memory, Trevor had to acknowledge that he’d assumed a great deal about this family. I did what everyone does to the Belmonts and I have to own that.

They were in the midst of a spirited debate on blacksmithing as an artform when a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to say a quick hello to Lisa and Vlad before I take off,” Saint Germaine said with a smile.

Trevor stood automatically and heard Adrian do the same behind him. He wasn’t going to hug the man again, but he definitely wanted to thank him for the cross one more time. It was hard for the sculptor to accept gifts but Saint had been so straightforward that it had been poignant instead of shaming.

Trevor strode forward and clasped his hand. “Thank you, so very much.” The older man fluttered and Belmont intentionally winked, enjoying the simpering murmur of Germaine.

“It was nothing, really,” Saint preened. “I will take you up on that escort sometime though.”

This time Trevor was ready for it. It was such an innocent word, really, ‘escort.’ Too bad it reminded him of an incredibly ugly time in his life. “It would be my absolute pleasure,” the brunette said. He meant it. Saint was charming, fun and an absolutely lovely man.

The boutique owner looked over his shoulder at Adrian and chortled with excitement. “Oh, don’t you look incredible! Someday you must let me put you in color but I must say, your customary black is such a wonderful look on you. The feather motif is an excellent choice.”

There was an amused tone in Germaine’s voice as he continued, “Don’t you think Belmont cleaned up nicely? I must say, his physique is impressive in this cut. He should wear suits all the time, don't you think?”

Trevor snickered. He was well aware that Saint thought he was attractive but this was a little… he turned back to Adrian, who’s eyes snapped up to meet him. He was checking out my ass, the brunette thought with a little thrill. Right here in the middle of--!

“You did a wonderful job, as always,” Vlad said easily, stepping up to the entryway. Trevor politely moved out of the way, into the foyer with the wide staircase. Adrian followed him out with a smile for Saint.

“You look great too, you know,” Trevor murmured, barely a whisper.

“What?” Adrian said a little too loudly, “Oh, of course, a bathroom. Follow me.”

Trevor gave him a funny look but his lover was already walking quickly down the hallway and took a right. The sculptor had to trot to follow him. “Adrian what in the-?” he asked as he came around the corner just in time to see the blonde head through a door. Annoyed now, he went after the painter, into a spacious bedroom.

“In here,” the painter said and there was something in his voice that spread awareness, thick like frosting over Trevor’s skin. The blonde stood at the far end of a wide bathroom, perched on the edge of a claw foot tub. The sculptor stepped in and Adrian stood. 

“There is no time; shut the door.” He came forward quickly. “You can’t touch my hair or the shirt but-.” 

Trevor yanked the blonde to him, whirled and pressed him against the counter, mouth frantically nipping into his. “I just-” Adrian gasped, “I needed to touc-!” 

“Yes,” Trevor groaned into his lips, tongue busy against soft invitation. He hefted Adrian onto the counter and stepped between his legs, cupping that gorgeous face and stroking his jaw. Mine, mine, mine, the bestial need screamed.

A curtain of lavender-scented gold fell over his hands and the lips that parted for him were bruised with yearning desire. The painter snaked his hands around Trevor’s waist and gripped the upper curves of his ass, his legs twining to lock him in. 

He needs me just as much as I need him. The thought came and went as their bodies met.

There was no space between them, awakening arousal meeting rising need. When Adrian bucked against him, the brunette swore against his lover’s mouth and slipped his hand between them. “Trevor, lover, oh, I can’t stand it, I just-!” 

The sculptor’s hand met rigid flesh encased in fabric and the blonde gasped, hands clutching at his hips. Adrian’s head fell back, exposing the elegant line of his jaw as his throat worked for air.

“Here, right here,” Trevor murmured, tucking his face into the space between earlobe and throat. “This space is heaven.” It was warm, richly scented of the bath they’d shared, and the unique fragrance of his lover. He nipped carefully at Adrian’s earlobe and stroked him firmly, feeling the glory of the painter’s desire lengthening under the hand he moved between them.

Adrian’s hushed moans right against the brunette’s ear kept pace with his pounding heart. “Trevor, Trevor, Trevor.” His name was a greedy hand scrabbling frantically for purchase in a disintegrating whirlpool of passion. 

“We have to stop,” the blonde gasped, “we have to-.” There was the sound of footfalls and they both froze. The steps continued past the room and faded. Reality had crashed in like a drunk at a wedding. 

Carefully Trevor stepped back and Adrian slipped off the counter. Both men took a moment to adjust their clothes and then the painter caught his eye. “I wanted to tell you, you look insanely good in that.”

Likewise beautiful, Trevor thought and grinned. “I promise, I look better out of it Legs,” he said wickedly.

Adrian groaned. “Don’t I know it,” he said and turned back to the mirror, carefully settling his hair back in place. He frowned. “Can you grab a Q-tip out of the drawer, please? I have a small smear of mascara that I need to fix.”

Trevor nodded and opened the first drawer. A plethora of toiletries; soaps, lotions, shampoo… But no Q-tips. Behind him, he heard Adrian open the bathroom door. Trevor knew it was in case anyone came by. He sighed heavily and went to the next drawer and opened it. His snort of surprise had Adrian turning.

“Ummmm, someone’s having a party,” Trevor said with a laugh. 

“What are you? Ohhhh, yeah, sorry I should have warned you.” Adrian laughed with amusement.

The drawer was neatly stocked with a variety of sexual-related paraphernalia from condoms to what appeared to be a vibrating anal plug, all still in it’s packaging and in multiples. There was a little label, ‘Please help yourself to any and all items, don’t be shy!’ 

“There’s gotta be 4 different kinds of lube in here!” Trevor looked at Adrian, “Did you know this was full of this?”

“It’s in every bathroom in the house,” Adrian said, clearly struggling with mirth. “My mother is a strong advocate of safe and fun sex. Her area of specialization is sexual health. See the note?”

“I’m sorry, what?!” The sculptor felt like he’d been hit in the head. He tried to picture the elegant and calm Lady Tepes stocking this drawer with sexual stuff and failed horribly. “You are saying this is Lisa’s Party?”

Adrian made a face. “Well that is one heck of a name for it, but yes? The drawer is something my mother insists on and I would have loved to have seen that argument with my father. It’s actually wonderful, she’s always been really open and comfortable with sex. My sexual education was a good one and I am grateful. You wouldn’t believe some of the misinformation I’ve heard from some of our classmates Trevor, it’s depressing.”

“Yeah but like, you were embarrassed about the suggestion that your parents had sex at all!” Trevor felt like his grin was going to split his face as he looked up to the blonde. Adrian looked down his nose and sniffed haughtily.

Oh baby, Trevor thought hungrily. He loved it when the blonde went all snotty.

“I’m so glad you are amused but that is different. Sex in general is a conversation I can have with ease, but the sexual habits of myself or my parents? Yeah, hell no.” Trevor shut the drawer and stood, stepping a little closer.

“I don’t know, I feel like you are very comfortable telling me exactly what you want.” He reached out, putting his thumb against Adrian’s lips. “Begging me to-.”

It was the click of high heels this time and the men separated like they’d been electrocuted. When Lady Tepes appeared in the doorway, they were three feet apart, standing in front of the mirror; Adrian carefully wiping a Q-Tip under his eye and Trevor patting his hair in place.

"Time to go," she said.

---

99 years of war
Left no place for winners
War ministers don't exist anymore
And not one jet
Today I stroll around
See the world in ruins
I've found a balloon
I think about you and let it fly

-"99 Luftballoons," (English Translation) Nena

 

Notes:

"Inima mea" - my heart
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Thanks to the incredibly patient armouredescort who indulges me far more than I deserve and without whom, this work would not exist.
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Look at this GORGEOUS work by the talented Neri Rubeedo of Vlad and Lisa at the dining room table!!
Badly Chapter 40-Drac_Lisa
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In case you were curious about Adrian's childhood treat
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I am behind in responding to comments again (cough, still, cough) and I am really sorry! I am working on it, I promise!

Chapter 41: So I'll settle for one day

Summary:

“Yes, about that,” Vlad settled back into the seat. “I don’t mean to pry and I beg your pardon if I am, but you mentioned you had little means. As I recall, you parents seemed very well off. What happened to it all? Did it go to your extended family in trust because you were a minor?”

Sypha couldn’t even breathe. It was a question she knew mattered. Vlad’s concerns would always come back to whether Trevor could be trusted and what his intentions were. For his part, Trevor would either put up his shields, or let the Tepes’ in. Which would it be?

“Father,” Adrian started, voice low and distressed. The sculptor interrupted.

“No, really, it’s a fair question and a simple enough answer.” Trevor said quietly.”I don’t mind.”

Notes:

Chapter 41

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha grinned at her reflection. Saint was brilliant. When he’d suggested a suit she’d been uncertain but the robin’s egg blue fabric with its metallic sheen was absolutely fantastic. There were thin blue velvet lightning bolts running down the arms and a clever little matching vest over a pale cream blouse. The deep bronze bow tie and matching 50’s style heels just sold the whole thing.

She’d refused the earrings. With her hair down and tousled like this, it was pointless and she knew from last time she’d get sent home with them. I’m still not sure what to do with the amethysts, she thought. There’d been a collar of the purple stones that ran from under her chin to her collarbone last time.

Until her move to Adrian’s, the choker had lived in its box and taped to the underside of her bathroom sink because she was afraid of theft. Logic had told her to just sell them, or give it back but she couldn’t bring herself to. She loved them, and just touching them had made her happy.

With a critical eye she looked at the smoky shadow and crimson pout that the make up artist had given her. “I look like a different person,” she said to her reflection, grinning. “Almost makes up for missing dinner.”

She pouted to herself in the mirror. Vlad would likely have met Trevor by now and she would have loved to see that. It would have gone well, she was sure. After all, both men had promised to be cordial and she trusted Lisa to keep the peace. Oh well, the price of beauty and all that.

“Besides, the guys’ll freak out when they see you,” she said happily and then remembered what she was wearing under this. “Bless you Saint, you naughty, wonderful man.” He’d been so pleased with himself, and she had to admit, it’d been a delicate, strappy wonder that looked amazing.

So there would be two freak outs, she thought happily. The Legend of Zelda theme started shrilling from down the hall and she walked as quickly as her heels would allow down to the guest bedroom.

They’d agreed that Trevor and she would leave all their things in the guest suite but sleep with Adrian in his room. It gave her a little thrill and happy ache that her men had been so obviously pleased by this, and she’d thought then that the negotiations about privacy were off to a great start. 

Digging in her purse, she found her phone and the image of her family home greeted her when she flipped it over. There was a slight hesitation and then she engaged the call.

“Hello?” she said calmly.

“Mary Sypha, I didn’t think you would answer.” Her father’s voice was no-nonsense and firm.

“Hello Papa,” she answered with a small smile. “I was away from the phone, I’m sorry.” She paused and then said, “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve been in my prayers every night. I have missed you too. Your family misses you.”

Sypha closed her eyes. Guilt is not a reasonable reaction, she thought. You have the right to live your own life. “I am sorry I could not make it back for Easter. When I attended, I prayed for each of you.” The little lie made her grimace but it was just simpler. She had prayed for them but it was on Maundy Thursday, not Easter as she knew he was assuming.

“What did you sacrifice for Lent?” Her father asked and she made a face. She knew what was expected but it was more lies that she didn’t want to tell.

“Hot water, meat, and the quilting group I told you about.” She rattled the list off thinking, I actually gave up alcohol but you definitely don’t want to know I started in the first place.

“Ah, Jeremiah and Ruth both gave up hot water as well. May we offer--” her father intoned.

“Our suffering to God,” she finished equally reverently.

“Indeed.” There was the slightest pleased note and she tried not to feel sad. She no longer agreed that God wanted her suffering, but she knew that her parents could never accept that. They did not want her for who she was, but who they thought she was. But they did love her and that was going to have to be enough.

The conversation was brief and by the time Sypha hung up she had allowed the sorrow to mellow back into a steady ache. She had spent so much time, heartache, and tears over her family, and there was peace in what she’d come to accept. No more tears.

Tonight, she thought as she exited Adrian’s wing and headed for the stairs, was for fun and love. She saw them chatting in the foyer, making some joke about a party. Sypha gulped. Holy hell, they were both so fucking gorgeous.  

Adrian in his black on black suit, blonde locks artfully waved down his shoulders and Trevor in his hunter green with a double breasted vest and smoothly coiffed hair.

Again, she was immensely grateful to Saint for suggesting her suit. She’d originally wondered about a dress instead but this was perfect. They would be the three musketeers, a ménage à trois of color and style.

“Hello beautifuls,” she declared and started down the stairway. It was gratifying to see her men turn and absorb her. Every person lived for this moment, watching the expression of someone they loved realize how beautiful they could be. 

I am so very blessed, she thought, because I get this everyday. 

The contrast in their reactions was indicative of how different both of her lovers were. Trevor didn’t hide lust very well; his smirk and outright leer were an amusing finish to the eyebrows raised in awe. Adrian simmered all in his eyes, and she knew the flex of his hands was him imagining touching her.

The blonde paced forward and took her hand, a greedy clutch, before bowing over it formally. “You look stunning,” he murmured. “Absolutely stunning.”

I fucking love it when he does that, she thought. I feel like an actual princess. When his head rose they stared at each other for a moment and his lips parted. She could hear his calm voice telling her to stroke a little firmer now and show him her wings. The shiver was involuntary but the slow, knowing smile he gave her wasn’t.

“Coming through; gimme Tepes, I want my girlfriend,” Trevor said loudly and playfully nudged him aside, pulling her into his arms. She wanted to lick his cheek; this close his fragrance was all around her and he smelled fantastic. 

“She’s so hot; I would wreck this chick.” Trevor declared and they heard a throat clear. The brunette winced and Sypha snickered.

“Perhaps not in the hallway?” Vlad asked with a distinctly amused tone, coming down the opposite staircase.

Trevor cleared his throat, “It’s a uh, a saying, sir, it means like, I would appreciate her. Like a work of art.”

“Well Ms. Belnades certainly is giving my Vermeer a run for her money, that is true.” He looked at her. “You look radiant my dear, you are definitely wearing the best suit this evening.”

Sypha waited until Trevor put her down and went over to Lord Tepes, holding out her hands. Vlad took them, his palms warm against hers and she leaned in, kissing his cheek gently.

“Tata Vlad, it’s you who wears the best suit, you darling man.”

Vlad preened. “Oh, I do adore you, Sypha.” He looked over her shoulder. “Adrian? We’ll be late, what are you doing?”

“Grabbing something I forgot, be right back! Meet you in the limo!”

Vlad clucked and then turned to smile warmly at Lisa as she came down the hall, a sleek regal form. “Sypha!” his wife said excitedly and sped up her steps, arms open and beaming.

“Lisa!” Sypha chirped happily and dashed over. She slowed and carefully wrapped her arms around the older woman, mindful of the jewelry and dress. Lisa held her close, a cloud of warm comfort and easy love. Sypha sent a grateful prayer to God that the Tepes’ were such wonderful people and loved her for who she was.

“It’s so good to see you, I have missed you so much,” she murmured to Lisa, and Lady Tepes gave her an extra hard squeeze before drawing back.

“There’s been some exciting things going on, hasn’t there?” Lisa said quietly and smiled.

She knows, Sypha realized. There was more understanding in those blue eyes than Sypha could have ever hoped for, and she hadn’t even been worried about Lisa. It will be alright, she thought.

“Alright you lovely pair, it’s high time we go, you can chat in the limo. Where the devil is Adrian?” Vlad ushered them towards the door, looking up the stairs his son had gone. Shaking his head, he led the way down the hall to the front door.

When the butler opened the massive entrance, two sleek limos were waiting. Vlad looked back at Lisa, “I didn’t order two?”

“I thought that Trevor and Sypha might prefer not having cameras and microphones shoved in their faces this evening,” she said smoothly and the redhead could have kissed her. It was a real issue for Sypha to be in the papers with the Tepes’ and she avoided it whenever possible. It would also help Trevor ease into the shock of seeing the full reality of being Alucard Tepes.

“That’s a good thought darling, thank you.” The patriarch frowned slightly, “I was hoping to catch up with the young folk a bit more though.”

Sypha couldn’t have been more surprised when Trevor grinned. “Why don’t we ride together and just do a quick switch a block away?” he suggested.

Damn what did I miss?!? She wondered, and almost wished he hadn’t offered. She was desperately curious now to ask what had transpired over dinner. On the other hand, it would keep. If both men wanted to spend more time together that was a wonderful and exciting development.

“That’s a wonderful idea Trevor, thank you,” Lisa said cheerfully and they piled into the vehicle, the older Tepes on the one side and the artists on the other. Trevor took her hand, a mirror of Vlad reaching for Lisa.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Adrian came skipping down the stairs and dived into the vehicle. Sypha felt the tension in his arm as he realized they were not alone. He settled in beside her. “Oh! Hello!” he said to his parents.

Lisa smiled, “Trevor suggested we ride with you to the opening; gives us all more of a chance to talk.”

Sypha gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You know Vlad is just scoping Trevor out for Ferbli, he’s afraid he might be up against another master.” She winked at Vlad who playfully shook his finger at her.

“You, my dear, are in for a surprise! I have been practicing.” He reached for the inlaid cigar box and withdrew a long, fragrant cylinder. Lisa cleared her throat.

“Vlad.” The older man ducked his head and looked at his wife guiltily. “Not with the young people,” she said. 

Lord Tepes turned his head to give the trio such a hopeful look. He looked like a child told that they could stay up a little longer if it was okay with their mother. Sypha grinned back at him and Adrian coughed but the snicker was discernible.

“Actually,” Trevor said casually, “I wouldn’t mind one myself; if I might join you, Vlad?”

She squeezed Trevor’s hand three times. Way to go Belmont, she thought. He’ll share and be damned pleased to have a comrade. She’d tried once, just for him, and it was most assuredly not to her liking. 

The smell was lovely and she associated it with Vlad, which made her happy. But actually smoking one made her nauseous.

Chortling with pleasure, Vlad withdrew another cigar and passed it over. Trevor murmured his thanks and the two men beamed at each other.

Lisa sighed, but it was with a smile. “I see you are an enabler, Mr. Belmont. My husband knows darn well cigars are terrible for his health. It can cause heart disease.”

“Ah, my sweet, but you keep my heart so young.” Vlad said adoringly and she gave him a bemused look.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Lord Tepes,” she said and he laughed, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

“So you said when we met, inima mea, and I keep it in mind, always.” He kissed the delicate bones in swift succession, gave a gentle squeeze, and reached for the cigar scissors.

Adrian opened the sun roof and Lisa smiled at him. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said to the group, “but it is a small space and there will be two of you smoking.” His mother nodded approvingly.

“Would you like me to help with your cigar?” Adrian asked, looking toward Trevor and Belmont shook his head. Vlad passed the matches and the cigar scissors over. Sypha was surprised at the brunette’s fluid movements and practiced inhalation. 

He’s done this before, but when? She wondered. “Okay, where did you learn that?” she asked Trevor as he exhaled a fragrant cloud.

“Oh, ha ha, it was part of my etiquette lessons. Important things to learn for the future owner of the Belmont International Gallery. I also waltz.” He smirked. “Well, I think I still can, it’s been a while.”

“Etiquette lessons,” Adrian sighed glumly and her two lovers shared a wry smile of understanding.

“Etiquette lessons?” Sypha hadn’t really looked into the Belmonts’ social standing. She’d just assumed they were successful gallery owners, but…

“Just how big a deal was your family?” she asked Trevor and immediately regretted it. He doesn’t want to talk about this with the Tepes! How could you forget that!

Trevor’s smile was rueful but he didn’t stiffen. It was a relief, but there was still an apology in  her eyes when she looked at him. “It doesn’t matter now, none of it’s mine anymore anyway,” he said.

“Yes, about that,” Vlad settled back into the seat. “I don’t mean to pry and I beg your pardon if I am, but you mentioned you had little means. As I recall, you parents seemed very well off. What happened to it all? Did it go to your extended family in trust because you were a minor?”

Sypha couldn’t even breathe. It was a question she knew mattered. Vlad’s concerns would always come back to whether Trevor could be trusted and what his intentions were. For his part, Trevor would either put up his shields, or let the Tepes’ in. Which would it be?

“Father,” Adrian started, voice low and distressed. The sculptor interrupted.

“No, really, it’s a fair question and a simple enough answer.” Trevor said quietly.”I don’t mind.” He took a breath. Wedged between the two men, she felt the tremble of one and the expectant tense of the other. When the brunette said he didn’t mind, she took a deep breath and something inside of her untwisted.

“I don’t have all the details,” the sculptor said slowly, “because I was a minor and no one would talk to me. Not my family, not the journalist who broke the story, not the agents involved in the case. No one.”

“Oh Trevor,” Lisa murmured and Sypha met her eyes. The compassion in them was a balm and Sypha fervently hoped the brunette could see it.

“What I do know is that virtually everything was lost in the fires. Insurance payouts were paid into court and the forgery crimes meant that everything I owned, or would have inherited, were the proceeds of a crime. The courts took it all.” 

Trevor’s sigh was filled with hurt and Sypha put her hand on his thigh. He covered her hand with his and finished. “With the murders unsolved on top of that, everything has been held by the government since then. I don’t know what they did with it all. That’s when they took Morning Star.”

“And your remaining family abandoned you,” Lisa whispered and there was real pain in her voice. Trevor met her gaze.

“I have always believed that they blamed me for my parents death. I blamed myself. Adrian helped me find out that I wasn’t to blame after all.” Trevor looked over at the blonde and she could hear the painter’s hitched breath.

Sypha gave them both a moment by grabbing Adrian’s hand and placing it on top of hers and Trevor’s. She squeezed quickly and patted the heap of hands before releasing everyone. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Vlad’s eyebrows crease. 

Too much? She wondered. It was too late now if it had been.

“It was an accident,” Adrian said quietly, “I got lucky when Agent Isaac approached me. I am so glad we-- you know now.”

Trevor’s smile was joyless. “I don’t think I will ever truly know why the Belmont clan chose to ignore me after my parents died but in some ways it doesn’t matter. I am working on accepting that I didn’t do anything that caused my parents demise. I have struggled to make ends meet but I have done it. Someday, one day, people will hear ‘Belmont,’ and they will think of my art first and the scandal second.”

“I’m sorry it has been a hard road for you, Trevor,” Vlad said sincerely and Sypha could have cried. “You didn’t deserve it, and nothing about what happened to your parents was your fault. I am so glad that Adrian could help you realize that.”
----

Vlad wasn’t lying, he truly was sorry for what Trevor had suffered. He’d kept tabs on the boy of course, but there was real misery here that throbbed like a heart spasming in its death throes. This had been missing from the sterile, typed pages of the occasional reports. He never would have guessed at the depths of Belmont’s agony. It tugged on his heart and he worked to close it off. 

Foolishly, he’d assumed that Trevor had help from his family. It’d been a blade of pure guilt to realize Trevor had been left completely alone. His instructions to the investigators had never asked for information on his family situation. 

Your attention had been on the case itself, he thought bitterly.

As it had to be, he told himself. There is too much exposure and too much risk there. If it came out, you could lose everything. He looked at the face of his son, soft gratitude in those golden eyes for his father’s words. His wife squeezed his hand. It’s enough to do something now, he reasoned and resolved to have a word with Trevor tomorrow.

He liked Belmont, although he’d expected that. Dominic and Penelope had been dear friends and it made sense to him that their only child would be equally charming and clever. It was a shame really, if Trevor had been a little bit older, his parents would have been able to tell him and… 

And he’d be dead, Vlad thought. It may not seem like it, but this was the best possible outcome. I can help him now and he can go on with his life.

This connection will have to end though, he thought, watching the way Sypha nuzzled Belmont with real regret. She cared for him a great deal, it was obvious. He would not hurt her for anything, she was as dear to him as his own son. 

But the danger was too great now and with Adrian’s involvement he would not risk it. Adrian will be fine and so will Sypha, they’ve known Belmont less than two months.

“If I can ask, why would you possibly think your parent’s death was your fault?” Lisa inquired. “You were a child.”

Young adult, Vlad corrected silently and refused to acknowledge he was justifying.

“My parents had just told me about the forgeries,” Trevor said. “I told someone else.”

What the fuck?!? Vlad’s panic accelerated like a launched missile and it was only decades of practice that kept him from reacting externally. Patience, just listen. It was advice that had served him well his entire life.

“They told me that the family had been making forgeries. They told me that they were,” Trevor’s face creased with lines that wept grief and bitterness like a torrential rain, “proud of the work they were doing and that I needed to know now, but they couldn’t tell me everything. Most importantly, I couldn’t tell anyone. As if there was even anything to tell. How ironic was it that a newspaper journalist would know more than I did about what they’d been doing.” 

Trevor met his gaze and Vlad saw Penelope’s eyes filled with sorrow. The shock tore through him; Lord Tepes could have sworn she was right there in those blue depths. She’d looked at him like this once before, devastated and tormented. 

It wasn’t until he blinked that Vlad could see her son again.

It doesn’t matter anymore, he told himself. You cannot change it now and what you were doing was right. It’s not your fault and it’s not his. You’ll help him, he’ll move on, and you can finally lay this to rest.

Trevor sighed. “I couldn’t believe it, so I texted a cousin and asked them. They never answered and I always thought they’d told someone.” He swallowed, “That it’d gotten back to the mob, the people that they were in business with.”

There was no mob, Vlad thought again, wishing he hadn’t elaborated on that point so profusely. On several points really. It was too late now and had seemed like a good idea at the time of the cover-up. He’d been blind-sided, grieving and infuriated. Mistakes had been made.

Like Trevor’s well-being slipping through the cracks, he thought, looking at the brunette. You are only human Vlad, what were you supposed to do? It was a total fucking mess.

“Agent Isaac told Adrian that my cousin never told anyone about the text,” Trevor finished and tapped his cigar into the ashtray in the panel. “So it wasn’t my fault.”

No, it was mine, Vlad’s heart cried and he crushed it under pride. It was not my fault. No one could have predicted Crimson’s response. I shouldn’t have discounted them, but I never would have predicted what they would do.

“I am sure that both Adrian and Sypha have told you this, but I think you need to hear it again.” Lisa shifted forward and looked at Belmont. Her grip on Vlad’s hand was tight. With trepidation he knew she was already attached. As if this needed to be more complicated, he thought unhappily.

“But even if your cousin had told someone, it still wouldn’t be your fault,” her voice was softly insistent.

Vlad could hear it in her voice now; Lisa’s heart had made room for Trevor. Fucking hell.

“You were a child Trevor. It is that simple. You shouldn’t shoulder any blame for anything that happened and your parents would be horrified to know that you had.” She settled back into the seat and put her other hand over Vlad’s. 

“Take the word of a parent,” she glanced at him and he nodded, summoning a small smile for her. “Two parents,” she looked back at the brunette. “You carry no blame for this.”

The back of Trevor’s hand was pressed over his mouth. The tiny lines around his eyes were pulled tight and there was a distinct sheen in the sky blue. If he cried Vlad wasn’t sure he could take it, because Lisa might cry, and if there was one thing that broke him every time, it was her tears. He cast about for a way to redirect the conversation.

“I agree with Lisa. I think you are blameless in this and I am so sorry you carried these feelings around with you. It’s obvious you were not involved,” he tapped his cigar casually, “so why is this agent trying to gather information about you, through Adrian?”

“They have nothing on Trevor,” Sypha said tightly and Vlad nodded. “But it seems like they might be trying to pin something on him.”

Foreboding like a stirring wind rustled in the depths of Lord Tepes’ belly. “After all this time?” Vlad asked, careful to keep his voice curious and concerned. It struck him as bizarre and completely off base unless this agent had concocted some ‘evidence.’ 

He looked at Adrian and could see it already. He would help Trevor if there were any charges. Please no, I cannot get involved in this, he thought.

There was a pregnant pause and Adrian sighed deeply. “Agent Isaac suggested that there was something underhanded between you and the Belmonts.” The castle of Vlad’s composure lost an entire turret as it plummeted into the depths at the words. 

“What?” he asked and Lisa patted his hand soothingly.

“Darling, it’s obviously baseless,” she told him calmly and the trio of young people nodded reassuringly. The temper that Vlad so rarely let out roared its fury alongside the twin dragons of fear and pride.

“I meant to discuss this with you tomorrow, Father,” Adrian said apologetically. “It’s all absurd and Isaac has zero evidence, he told me so himself. It’s obviously a desperate bid to close a case that has gone cold.”

Vlad bit back the unreasonably furious response that Adrian should have told him immediately and forced himself to look at it from their point of view. There was no reason to worry because, from outside appearances, there was no reason for Vlad Dracula Tepes to be involved in a criminal enterprise. 

There was no reason to look at all, Vlad thought. So why did Isaac? What led him to me?

“Speaking of discussions,” Lisa said smoothly. “Adrian, I trust you’ve appraised Trevor of what to expect at the opening?”

Vlad wasn’t done with the topic but he resolved to corner both young men at the earliest opportunity. The discussion turned towards which security guards would be assigned to whom and what to expect in terms of the press. 

Vlad let it wash over him as he brooded. Several things were going to have to be nipped at the bud after tonight and he would have to call in some favours in regards to Agent Isaac. Watching Trevor grin at his son he felt a wave of nostalgia batter at the steel resolve to sever all contact with Belmont.

Was it fate? He wondered. The boys had been taken with each other the first time they’d met and it seemed like that had held true all the way through until now. Sypha laughed and tapped Adrian’s nose playfully, his son chasing after the finger with kissy lips. Trevor arched his brow and pressed his finger to Adrian’s pursed lips, shaking his head.

There it was again, the elder Tepes thought. He didn’t miss it this time. There was something there for his boy, something…

The sculptor leaned in to kiss Sypha’s forehead and she closed her eyes, beaming with contentment. Adrian’s deep affection was evident in his gentle smile. The blonde was clearly happy for them and Vlad didn’t know what to make of it. 

There was a wistfulness in the blonde’s eyes, a yearning and Vlad couldn’t put his finger on it. Suddenly Vlad knew, and it made everything easier. 

Adrian had finally figured out that he was in love with Sypha. About damn time, Vlad thought with satisfaction.

Perhaps sending Belmont on his way wouldn’t be so difficult after all. Vlad and Lisa had both hoped for the relationship between Sypha and Adrian to deepen into something more. Lord Tepes had even gone so far as to thoroughly vet the Belnades clan in case of an eventual liaison. There were issues there, but certainly nothing that a good media spin and non-disclosure agreements couldn’t resolve.

Vlad relaxed, secure in his plans for how to handle Belmont and Agent Isaac. Wouldn’t it be funny if all of this meant he would finally get what he’d always wanted? After all, the Tepes bloodline must continue.

---

If I could turn the page
In time, then I'd rearrange
Just a day or two
Close my, close my, close my eyes
But I couldn't find a way
So I'll settle for one day
To believe in you
Tell me, tell me, tell me lies
Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies

-"Little Lies," Fleetwood Mac

Notes:

Can you believe it's been nine months to the day since I published the first chapter for this fic? Pretty nuts!

I originally intended it as a silly little 3 part smutfest and it's become so much more than that. I want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has come along for the ride on this. I hope it's made you smile!
--
Check out this GORGEOUS gift from SadtheBurrito! Sypha in Adrian's shirt from Chapter 13!!
Sypha Belnades - It Started Out Badly
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There's a showdown next chapter and ohhhh my gosh is is goooood. 🎉🔥😈 The good news? It's all written out. The bad? I need to make a moodboard for it 😢 I'm *hoping* to get it posted by the end of the weekend for you--fingers crossed!!
--
Whomever is following the playlist on Spotify, omg you peeps, I am so flattered!! 🥺
---
Photos: Sypha - unknown model from Getty Images, Trevor - Dylan Rider, Adrian -Andrej Pejic, Lisa-Robin Wright, Vlad-Jeff Bridges

Chapter 42: sweet dreams are made of this

Summary:

“I thought you looked familiar,” the brunette said, voice a bullet of malice. “But I couldn’t place it.” He stepped forward and Carmilla answered it with a step of her own.

“I am Carmilla Styria,” she said with pride, tossing her hair.

The man’s eyes flashed. There was shock, fury and then, bizarrely, regret. That’s right, you will regret-- she started to think, and he interrupted it.

“I am Christopher Wise,” the man said and offered an unpleasant grin when her jaw dropped.

Notes:

Badly Chapter 42

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Carmilla considered herself a chameleon. She was adaptable, clever and highly attuned to social norms. 

She’d already set her lure for Anish. The carefully worded comment on Svayambh. The suggestion that sex could be a primitive struggle between the masculine and the feminine for dominance. His request for her name and the flare of pride when he’d commented that he was familiar with her work.

Just as she’d planned, he was called away to do the introduction for the art and she made sure to stand in the second row-- not too eager now --and inclined her head only once when he looked her way. She knew desire when she saw it and would play to that.

But part of desire was stoking jealousy and intrigue. From the moment the Tepes’ walked in, she’d known who she was targeting to make Kapoor wriggle on her line.

Vlad Tepes was tempting, stunning, and, if she was able to aim that high, a perfect candidate for a conquest. The man’s ego shook the ground with every step. 

But Carmilla has survived by understanding how and when to act. It would be ill advised to even try. But someday, perhaps.

No, the man to approach was his son. Reserved, cold and remote, Alucard Tepes was strikingly beautiful and famous enough in his own right. Carmilla had seen his work; too understated, overly rendered and pathetically hopeful--and knew enough about him to not need an introduction.

He was accompanied by another couple, a redhead who was frankly delicious and a brunette who looked a little dangerous. The brunette and the redhead were holding hands and Tepes’ hands were in his pockets.

Excellent, she thought. Likely security detail assigned to him under the guise of companions and no one of consequence. Now it was just a matter of timing.

The trio stopped in front of Anish’s Svayambh and talked for a moment before a photographer politely stepped up. They turned, parting a little, and Alucard Tepes nodded. 

The couple stepped to the side and Alucard turned to them. She was too far away but her eyes narrowed. There was something sad there, she thought. Something in his face, something…  

It was gone and the picture was being taken by the photographer. Putting the camera down, the photographer pointed to the massive sculpture on the far side of the hall. He said something to Alucard. The blonde nodded again, turning to his companions and pointing to it.

They want his picture with it, Carmilla thought and waited. When he moved toward it and the security companions stayed and she started through the crowd. Little did she know, she was not the only one who saw their chance. Someone considerably less calm and far more desperate separated from the crowd.

Carmilla arrived just as the photographer lined up the shot. Smoothly she stepped into the frame with a purred welcome. “Alucard, darling, it’s been too long!,” she held out her hands. The photographer’s shutter clicked and she could have preened. 

It would be a bonus if they printed any of the shots she was going to give them. Fame was a hungry lioness in her belly and if she could use Tepes to notch her name higher without sacrificing her own ideals, she would.

The blonde turned to her and she caught the surprise. Carmilla had known she could count on his good manners to see her through this, and resisted the smirk when he took her hand. Using the leverage, she brought his arm back around her and maneuvered in for a kiss.

Men were always so predictable, so easy to read. They either leaned into such things with disgusting eagerness, or they froze, afraid to look like they were taking advantage. 

She’d have put money on Alucard freezing and she was right. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he didn’t want to make a scene so he would just let her do it. 

It was a mild surprise then when he moved his head back quickly, giving her his cheek instead. 

Her lips landed on soft skin scented like flowers and vintage candy, an unpleasantly innocent scent for a grown man. Carmilla pressed her lips hard, feeling the slick of her lipstick transfer to his skin. 

Even better, she thought happily. With luck he might wear it in the pictures.

“Carmilla Styria,” he said in a voice that made her eyebrows rise. There was disapproval there and judgement. A pity it was embedded in a voice that she had to admit was gorgeous. She drew back with an easy laugh, holding his hand determinedly.

“In the flesh, Alucard! How have you been? How are your parents?” From the corner of her eye she saw two other photographers bustling over to the unfolding scene. 

This might kill two birds with one stone. Word of this would get back to Anish, and she’d get some publicity. 

The blonde gently attempted to extract his hand from hers but she hung onto it, pressing her blood red fingernails into the soft palm. Alucard tensed but his face stayed calm. 

His eyes met hers and for the first time, Carmilla was intrigued. They were shimmering gold. The color was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. They were not contacts, the way the iris absorbed and reflected the light was unmistakably organic.

Fascinating, Carmilla thought.

“My parents are fine, thank you. I am well. Lovely to see you. Please excuse me.” He started to step away and Carmilla laughed loudly. Heads turned and Alucard stopped. There were four photographers now and their cameras were raised.

The artist knew she was pushing the limit with the Tepes heir but trusted her intuition. This man would die before he would make a scene. She had a couple more seconds before it would be wise to let him go. “What do you say, a picture of two artists for the photographers?”

Disgust flashed in those golden eyes and the vampiric predator inside of Styria snarled. How dare you! It is you who are detestable, she thought . Proud, useless, spoiled, boring brat born into something you don’t deserve and will never use to its full potential.

The painter inclined his head fractionally and stepped back to her. Her smile was toothy and feral as she draped herself over him. Possessively, she placed their joined hands on his chest and turned to the camera. 

This shot will be in the tabloids by morning, she thought.

“I’m so sorry,” the redhead stepped into the frame with an assertive smile. Her body blocked the shot and Carmilla’s seductive smile dropped like a body thrown from the ramparts.

The redhead didn’t even acknowledge the white-haired woman on his arm. Instead she looked at the heir. The snub was huge, repulsive and infuriating. “It’s time,” the woman said.

“Ah, Sypha, yes, of course, thank you for reminding me. How could I forget?” Alucard stepped back and Carmilla was forced to drop his hand. It was petty of her but she deliberately raked her nails over his palms when she did. His flinch was a small balm on the fury.

“Another time perhaps?” Carmilla said, sensual promise in her voice and threat in her eyes.

“Dream on,” the redhead murmured, so quiet that the artist almost missed it.

“Excuse me?” she hissed sharply and the redhead’s smile was radiant.

“Oh, I am so sorry, I mumbled. I said, ‘Come on,’ “ she looked at the blonde and linked her arm through his. Giving Carmilla her back, they moved away.

Ever aware of the cameras, Carmilla forced the small smile and signed the release for her photo. Blind with rage, she stalked straight over to one of the small balconies overlooking the gardens.

There was one lone man smoking a cigarette out there and she stared him down as she approached. Wisely, he elected to vacate.

“That bitch, that horrible, fucking cunt. How could she do that to another woman, how could she--” she was muttering to herself, when she heard a sound behind her and looked back.

It was the dangerous brunette who’d been with Alucard Tepes and he was spoiling for a fight. Anticipation rose. If she could play this right, she might be able to wrangle this confrontation into something.  

To think, I came just to teach Anish a lesson. The evening was proving to be far more fruitful than she could have imagined.

“Can I help you?” she spat out, keen eyes looking for cameras or witnesses around them. There was nothing. Splendid, it would be his word against mine, she thought.

“You sure can,” the man said. “You can never, ever, come near Alucard again.” There wasn’t just warning in his voice. There was something else and it spread over her skin with understanding.

Oh this is too perfect, she thought as  An overzealous security guard with a thing for his master. “That’s absurd. I was just saying hello,” she retorted. “Reacquainting myself with a friend.”

She cupped her elbow and tapped a long nail against her lip. The effect on the man was immediate. He went rigid and somehow the atmosphere on the balcony crackled.

“I thought you looked familiar,” the brunette said, voice a bullet of malice. “But I couldn’t place it.” He stepped forward and Carmilla answered it with a step of her own.

“I am Carmilla Styria,” she said with pride, tossing her hair.

The man’s eyes flashed. There was shock, fury and then, bizarrely, regret. That’s right, you will regret-- she started to think, and he interrupted it.

“I am Christopher Wise,” the man said and offered an unpleasant grin when her jaw dropped. Carmilla was rarely ever surprised but this had blindsided her. 

Not the upstart from Ainav Gallery who would dare to use my name to further his ‘career!’ she thought.

The shock stretched toward infinity when he said, “And I know who you are, Braila.”
---
Trevor knew his temper was a problem. It had no place here and this was the worst possible time for him to give into it.

It’d been a lovely dinner with the Tepes’ and he felt real hope that there might be eventual acceptance of the trio. Vlad had shocked him with his charm, wisdom, and adoration of his family.

There’d been so much love there, it staggered him. It made the brunette reconsider what was possible. By the time they’d departed the limo to the absurd roar of shouted questions and flashbulbs, Trevor had completely accepted easing the Tepes’ into the trio concept. It seemed that the reward might be worth the wait.

The paparazzi had helped reaffirm that decision. Sypha and Trevor’s limo had pulled up first. They had only light contact with the press and then were completely ignored when the next limo approached and Vlad appeared. 

When they’d reached the door, he’d turned back to see where the Tepes’ were, and his heart had ached as he watched the reporters ask questions. 

Adrian was so blank, so guarded. He’d only ever seen him like this once, after their first kiss. It was a painful reminder of how the sculptor had wounded his lover.

“He’s alright, Trevor,” Sypha murmured. “He is with his parents and he prepared himself for this. Let’s go inside.”

It had been harder than he’d imagined to leave Adrian out there. Alone. It had gnawed at him. Adrian wasn’t actually alone though. His parents, who loved him, were there. But he couldn’t shake it, and when Vlad and Lisa appeared without Adrian, his anxiety spiked.

“I’m sure he is just answering questions,” Sypha said soothingly but suggested that Frank could check. The security guard messaged Julius for them, who confirmed that Alucard was speaking to a reporter he was acquaintances with from Xpose. They were asking him about Shaft.

That had not helped the situation for Trevor. After all, Shaft had happened because of the sculptor. So this interview was entirely his fault.

Sypha had suggested that they get something to drink and some of the food. For probably the first time in his life, Trevor didn’t give a damn about the spread of genoa salami. He kept his eye on the door until, mid-sentence, Sypha put her hands around his face and pulled him down for a kiss. 

His attention immediately swung back to the moment and the soft, firm lips under his. That steeped tea in the sun flavor soothed him, as did her warm sunshine scent. Being touched and being held, it calmed the storm of nerves down to a gentle rain.

She stroked his hair and just as he parted his lips, she pulled back. “Better?” she asked him. When he nodded, she continued in a low voice. “I know it’s hard. I remember the first time myself. Do you know how I cope with it?”

Stay at home forever? He had thought but merely shook his head.

“I remember that he knows I am here.” She smiled. “He knows that he can come back to being with me when he can’t stand another question. I am his escape. As his guest, I am the perfect excuse. Not even his parents can give that to him. So by being here, separated from him, I give Adrian a way out.”

It had been the right thing to say. It meant that when Adrian did appear ten minutes later, the sculptor was able to greet him without clinging, or distress. Instead Trevor gave him an easy grin and offered a glass of red wine they’d picked up for him.

Then it fell apart like a poorly mixed plaster cast. The striking woman with stark white hair and piercing blue eyes had approached Adrian far too intimately. 

Trevor had not missed the tension of the painter’s body, or the unhappy twitch of his hands when he touched her. But when she went for the kiss his temper exploded. 

No one touches him without his consent, Trevor thought and stepped forward.

“Trevor!” Sypha’s hand was firm. “Trevor you can’t. He’s got this, trust him!” It was the mention of trust that stopped him.

He is trusting you to respect his wishes about the trio in public,  he thought. Everything he’d felt about being unable to protect Adrian from Isaac ripped open the paper sack of his self-worth. Like a gleeful raccoon hunting for morsels, watching the woman paw at Adrian dumped over the can of his emotions and flung them haphazardly all over the place. 

He fisted his hands until Adrian tried to step away and the woman refused to let him go. His hiss was matched by Sypha’s.

“Okay, that is it, either you rescue him or--” Trevor started and she nodded, face grimly furious.

It actually soothed him; About time you got mad about this! He thought. Then he felt guilty. He knew damn well that Sypha loved the painter just as much as he did. She was just better at restraining herself and adhering to what Adrian needed from them. He watched her blue suit move through the crowd and looked back.

That fucking bitch! he thought as the full implications of what the stranger was doing finally clicked into place. She was using him, like he was a damned prop. Trevor could have forgiven her for hitting on Adrian; that had to do with who he was as a person and the blonde was stunning.

But using him for a photo op? That made him an object, a thing. The sculptor could hear the painful echoes of Adrian’s tearful recounting of being used over and over again while Trevor held him at the dining room table in their apartment. The way Adrian had trembled when he explained that he never knew if someone truly wanted him for who he was, or for what his name meant.

It sucked the air from his lungs and left him helpless. Maybe it was the fact that he really, actually looked at her. Maybe it was the red fingernails shaped into claws or the smile that seemed slightly cruel, but something about her nagged at him. He’d seen her somewhere before. 

He saw Sypha rescue Adrian and the reassuring hand she placed on his arm. He saw the tiny tightening around those golden eyes that he knew meant Adrian was holding back tears. When the painter turned to murmur to her Belmont saw the bloody kiss, a trespasser on pale skin and a crimson marker of violation.

The sculptor was moving across the room before he understood what he was going to do. He followed the woman out onto an empty balcony and heard her swearing about Sypha. 

The sense of familiarity was pressing on him now, pulling like an unknotted thread in the hands of a seamstress. There was a name, a situation, a memory at the end of the thread and he was trying to get to it before he spoke. It still hadn’t appeared when she turned. 

“Can I help you?” It was a sharp command and his memory stumbled. There was something here that edged under the temper and started prying up the nail bed of his anger.

“You sure can,” he retorted. “You can never, ever come near Alucard again.” Even as he spoke, there was a spreading fear. Leaking like a cracked septic tank, this fear was vile, ugly and gave him goosebumps. 

What is this? He wondered. There is no cause to be this afraid!

“That’s absurd. I was just saying hello,” the woman sneered. “Reacquainting myself with a friend.”

She cupped her elbow and curled the long nails against her chin. It was a slow unwinding of the last piece of thread and it rushed up to him. The single digit that rose to bloody lips as though shushing him was a mining explosion deep in the caverns of his belly.

It can’t be.  

You know it is.  

The protectiveness that he’d felt dumped into his bloodstream alongside such dread and panic that he got lightheaded. “I thought you looked familiar,” he said, the words hauled out like sharp boulders dragged to the daylight with bleeding palms. “But I couldn’t place it.” 

He stepped forward and the nightmare of femininity matched his gesture. Run, his guts pleaded.

The image of her kiss on Adrian’s cheek blended with an old image. It was one he’d hoped to forget; his own blood swirling down the drain in the shower as he wept. She must never touch Adrian again. The thought held in place, made him braver than he ever could have been for himself.

“I am Carmilla Styria,” the woman said with pride, tossing her blizzard of white hair.

No, he thought. The sick irony of it was a lead pipe on the back of his skull. Not the showing.

He let it go, his hopes for what that night meant for his career, the relationship with Ainav, and his friendship with Hector. He simply couldn’t resolve that right now. Trevor knew from experience that taking your eyes off this woman would be a mistake.

She’d had raven hair when they’d met. Shoulder length black hair, a septum piercing and an eyebrow ring. She’d told him her name was Braila and he’d been attracted to her heavy metal leathers, her keen wit, and gorgeous face. 

What was underneath all of that was a horror no one could have guessed at.

Images started to rise up like dead driftwood seeking the surface and Trevor bit his tongue, hard, to focus. Let her know, let her see her mistake. Use it to threaten and keep her away from Adrian.

“I am Christopher Wise,” he said and used the small satisfaction of her shock to make his words stronger. “And I know who you are, Braila.”

The transformation of her face sheared through his resolve, his protectiveness, and even his love for Adrian. In an instant, he saw her, leering over him in a small dark space and he shuddered violently. 

Are you scared?

The images rolled quickly now and terror could not be contained. She snarled and strode forward but Trevor jerked to the side. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped and came up against the door. Braila’s face was filled with hideous triumph, and he reached into his pocket for a small blade that he’d carried like a talisman since the last time he’d seen her.

“Belmont!” came the snarl from his left and Trevor’s head snapped to the side in time for the fist. 

---

Trevor wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Annoyance quickly fled as the blonde beside her stumbled. Adrian was trembling and she needed to focus on him.

“I can smell her on me, Sypha, I hate that. I hate that she touched me, she forced me!” His silently murmured sobs were hideous and then, suddenly, there was Lisa.

“We saw it,” Lady Tepes said quietly. “I don’t know who that was but she got far too close. Follow me.” 

With the expert ability of someone who has lived in the spotlight all her life Lisa shifted herself between the two of them, and chattered in an animated but quiet fashion all the way to the nearest alcove. 

It led to a small flight of stairs and the moment that they stepped into the arch, Frank appeared, shifting around them and neatly blocking the hallway behind the trio. They turned the corner.

“It’s private now, baby,” Lady Tepes said immediately and Adrian staggered sharply.

“Adrian!” Sypha cried softly and threw her arms around him, taking his weight against the wall. He softly crushed her, the trembling escalating into full bodied shaking. Lisa was opening her clutch and withdrew a Wet Nap.

“Adrian, I am cleaning the side of your face where she kissed you.” Lisa said before touching him.

“Please, get it off of me,” he whimpered weakly and she firmly wiped the streaks of red from his skin.

“All gone now.” She stowed it back in her clutch and sighed. “Do you have any idea who--”

“Carmilla Styria,” Sypha said quickly. “That’s Carmilla Styria and she’s a totally horrible person if you can’t tell.” She continued to pat Adrian’s back. The digital artist would have preferred to stroke but she was keenly aware of Lisa’s presence and the possibility of Vlad's at any moment. The hug was intimate enough.

Lisa’s gaze intensified. “That’s Styria? Of the bloody, pornographic images?” There was a revulsion in her voice that was completely justified in the digital artist’s opinion.

Sypha was surprised however. How would Lisa have seen that? She thought, but nodded.

Lisa’s voice was gentle but firm. “Adrian, you cannot go to that art opening with her and the Wise fellow.”

Sypha felt Adrian’s breath catch and suddenly remembered what they were talking about. The art opening on Friday, she remembered. With the artist he wanted to meet. She was sorry for it but she had to agree with Lisa.

“Mother,” Adrian said suddenly, rearing back, alarm in the sheen of his eyes. “Where is Trevor?”

---

Vlad was caught in the throng and even his expert extraction techniques weren’t effective at freeing him quickly enough. He could see Belmont following the woman who’d dared to publicly put her mouth on his son. A small part of him approved of the protectiveness and understood it, but mostly he just wanted to give the boy a hard shake.

This was not how you handled such things. Discretion was essential in resolution and one never, ever approached directly. Vlad had intended to send one of his men to bring the woman to one of the back offices. To calmly explain to her why she would never approach any of the Tepes’ or their companions ever again.

Instead Trevor had gone off on his own and Vlad was struggling to hold his temper in place. It wasn’t Belmont’s place to resolve this issue and even attempting to do so gave the woman what she wanted: significance. 

Any scenes would make her more memorable to the press and ensure that bloody photo of her kissing Adrian would be published. That I will not tolerate, just as I will not tolerate your interference in this matter, he vowed. Know your place.

Externally Vlad was charming and relaxed. His two security guards surreptitiously stood at twelve and three precisely. When he started moving again, they kept a steady pace. It was the abrupt pause of Daniel that brought him up short.

Suddenly Florin’s hand was on his elbow. “There is something happening sir, please wait.”

Vlad tensed, “Lisa? Adrian?” But he knew already. His height allowed him to see Daniel moving forward onto the balcony. Fury erupted, hot, acidic and melting his composure. This was the final straw, Belmont had gone too far and...

“No sir; someone just attacked Mr. Belmont." Vlad startled slightly and looked at Florin who was listening to his earpiece.

Surprise and then real concern overtook the older man. All his anger at Trevor’s presumption filtered through the genuine concern. How badly was the boy hurt? Had it been the woman? Had Trevor seen something in the exchange with Adrian that Vlad had not? Was that why he followed?

Lord Tepes considered that. Dominic had been faithfully loyal and Trevor had certainly been attentive to Sypha in the same way that his father had been to Penelope. He’d been courteous and sincere to Adrian, perhaps he’d only intended...

“It’s safe sir, you can proceed.” Florin nodded and Vlad furtively looked around. There was a small crowd by the balcony entrance but even as he watched, they dispersed. Deeming it safe, Vlad strode forward. 

He found Julius talking quietly to Belmont, who was looking over the guard’s shoulder at the woman with the white hair. She was lounging against the railing with an amused sneer. You! Lord Tepes thought immediately, temper flaring.

“What happened here,” Vlad growled at the small group on the balcony. Trevor’s head snapped up and Julius turned to him. Surprisingly, it was the woman who spoke first.

“Lord Tepes. You keep interesting company it seems,” she said. Slowly he turned to her and took her measure in the span of ten seconds. 

I know what you are, he thought. Think you are something special, don’t you. Someone worth more than she is. Such people were easy to dismiss, really. They were desperate for attention and when you denied it, they withered.

Deliberately he didn’t speak to her and turned to Julius and Trevor. “Lord Tepes, sir, I am so sorry-.” Trevor started to say and Vlad held up a hand.

“Who attacked you, Trevor?” 

“Trevor fucking Belmont!” the woman hissed, low and angry. “Of course! Heir to the forgery clan! In the market for some forgeries, Tepes?”

The disrespect bristled everything inside of Tepes but he wasn’t prepared to lose face for a nobody. Julius stepped forward and Vlad shifted his head ever so slightly. The man froze. “No one is talking to you,” he said casually, calmly. He didn't turn to address her directly.

Inside, the pride that had allowed Vlad to exist over 60 years without any major scandal arched it’s brows. You are nothing, little girl, he thought.

“Maybe not yet,” the woman snapped at him in that same insolent tone.

On the other hand, Vlad reflected as he turned to the woman, sometimes you had to remind the nobodies of their place. 

“Perhaps this wasn’t clear to you, madam,” he drawled in his languidly elegant accent, “you are no one.” He watched her blanch out, blue eyes scorched skies of fury. He continued, “I don’t particularly care what you think, as long as you keep it to yourself.”

He brought one long, elegant hand up, stroked his beard and pinned her with his eyes. Vlad knew he could be terrifying when he wanted to be. He wasn’t too small to admit he enjoyed how her eyes widened and when she held her breath.  “Because if you don’t,” his voice dropped all facade of pleasantry, “I’ll crucify you and have your head on a pike outside my door.”

He smiled, a slow, lethal promise. “I have the power and the means to do it. You have nothing. Never speak to me, my family or our companions ever again. Be gone.” Lord Tepes didn’t wait to see how she took it, but turned back to Belmont. The unholy grin on the man’s face was both amusing and a massive stroke to his ego.

Liked that, did you Belmont? He thought. See what obeying could get you? Isn’t this far more satisfying than a public brawl?  He saw the gleam of the blood from Trevor’s split lip and frowned. Vlad prided himself at being an attentive host and having something like this happen while Trevor was under his care irked him.

“Did she hurt you?” Vlad asked Trevor and the sculptor blinked, the smile vanishing as his eyes grew fearful.

“Sir I can explain that history, it’s not what you-.”

“He is asking about the split lip, Trevor,” Julius interrupted. “Tell him about the man.”

Vlad’s eyes flicked to his guard and the men exchanged glances. Apparently Vlad would be having a private discussion with Julius later. Exactly what history? The patriarch wondered but was immediately diverted by the name the brunette gave him.

“Professor Shaft,” Trevor said. “He hit me.”
---

I will kill him! Carmilla raged inside of herself. That bloody stupid, cruel old man and his simpering, pathetic, weak son! How dare he call me nothing! How dare he threaten me!

The artist stalked out to her vehicle and threw her clutch into it. Furious, she gunned the engine out of the parking lot as her mind raced. 

She would call Hector in the morning and tell him everything. Precious Christopher Wise aka Trevor Belmont, and his crude, garbage dump truck excuse for art would be out of the show, or she would be.

“Trevor fucking Belmont!” she hissed angrily and sped through the intersection. 

I know who you are Braila. 

How did he know that name? Only her conquests knew that name! She tried to think but the truth was, she never kept track of their names or their faces, only the begging.

Don’t touch me! 

It nagged at her but she couldn’t place it. “Is it a surprise? They all say that.” She muttered angrily.

Belatedly she braked hard and swore at the figure stepping off the sidewalk. When the man turned into her headlights she realized who it was. Her quick and clever brain went into overdrive as she watched him finish crossing the street.

Decision made, she turned carefully, and parked at the end of the street. Getting out of the car she leaned against it and watched him approach. By the time the man who attacked Belmont at the opening was a dozen paces away she had her plan in place.

“Sir?” she asked, with calm reason and friendly persuasion. “My name is Braila. I think we have a mutual problem and I would like to talk with you about it.”

The man looked up and narrowed his eyes. “You were at the show. With,” he hissed the name, the same mad fury as he had before, “Belmont.”

I can hear it in your voice, she thought, triumph washing over her. “Oh no, I wasn’t with him. I hate him. Him and those horrible Tepes’.”

The man’s smile was a little unhinged and Carmilla felt the plan snap into place just like the handcuffs on a conquest. “I wish they would all die,” he said with a sweetly seething grin.

---

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

-”Sweet Dreams,” Eurythmics

Notes:

You didn't think that *Vlad* was the only one to worry about... did you?
---
A little FYI, I won't get the next chapter out as quickly unfortunately but it should be in the next ten days!
---
Photos: Artwork: Anish Kapoor 'Svayambh,' Carmilla -beserk.com.au, Trevor -Hamid Fadaei

Chapter 43: How does it feel, when you treat me like you do

Summary:

It was a violation, layered on all the history of such incidents. Groping hands, mouths, people who wanted a claim to flesh that wasn’t theirs and to touch skin that was the only protection he had against the crush of expectation.

Trevor would have lost his mind, he thought with alarm. Why can I never get this right with him? Warn him properly? There was no question, Trevor would have seen what Carmilla did and he would have reacted.

God, what if he realized it was Carmilla? What if Christopher Wise realized? He thought with rising panic.

Notes:

CW: Child in peril, mob mentality, assault of a minor

It Started Out Badly Chapter 43

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Years before

Julius had worked for the Tepes’ for years now. He liked his job a great deal and was used to the family. He never made the mistake of believing himself to be a friend or that he wasn’t replaceable. It helped him keep his opinions to himself and stay sharp on the job.

Lord and Lady Tepes were his employers and he liked both of them. Lady Tepes was authentically kind and thoughtful. Lord Tepes was fair and reasonable as long as you adhered to his guidelines. Vlad never cut corners on paychecks for overtime or argued reimbursement for travel. The Christmas bonus and vacation time was generous and the quarters on site were luxurious.

All in all, it was a great job.

Adrian was the exception to this. It wasn’t that the boy wasn’t kind, polite and lovely or that he was moody or unpredictable. It was the opposite in fact. The young adult was quiet, endlessly patient and dutiful. There was a streak of pride in him, but it was never an issue.

Julius never had to ask him to stay close, or step away. He never had to track him down to some club, or debate whether to disclose to the parents about breaking up a ‘private party.’ Adrian did what he was told, when he was told, and rarely disagreed with a directive. He knew there’d been the issue with the heir’s name but that was before Julius’ time.

He wasn’t perfect. Julius overheard the arguments about his clothes, the money, the security detail, the loud, weird music, the incense phase, the paint he got on the carpet in his bedroom, the strong chemical smells of the oils.

But really, these were tiny issues for a teenager. Even the earring had been negotiated and discussed incredibly reasonably.

The only time he’d ever seen Adrian absolutely dig in was about an art college. It was an unexpectedly firm stance, and a sign of independence from someone who seemed incredibly passive.

Julius knew Lord Tepes was furious over the art college and had been trying to entice Adrian with other options. It was less clear how Lady Tepes was taking it but he suspected she was more comfortable with the concept. 

Watching them now, as the young man stood between his parents in full regalia, Julius held hope that the heir might yet find his feet. At sixteen, now was the time for him to come into his own. 

Adrian’s golden hair was cascading curls, the ceremonial sword glinted in the leather belt, and the long coat’s golden buttons gleamed. He looked like something out of a painting. Once again the security guard was grateful that Adrian never tried to give his protection detail the slip. Someone this beautiful could get into a lot of trouble.

Julius nodded at the other guard across the room and they rotated to six and twelve, keeping the family in view. “Time to move to greeting the crowd,” his earpiece chirped and Julius sighed. The public interactions were the bane of his existence. There were real risks that could never fully be mitigated with the meet and greets. 

“Julius take Master Alucard, Daniel will have eyes on Lord Tepes and…,” the guard was already moving. 

Meeting Adrian as he stepped from his parents, the young man smiled. “Are we headed outside now?” the blonde asked. 

The security guard nodded. Adrian took a deep breath. “Alright, for how long?”

“The schedule calls for twenty minutes sir,” Julius told him and the blonde’s smile faltered.

“Oh, that’s… I’m sorry, I will need a bathroom first in that case. Could you please alert Mother and Father’s guards? I know we will need to go out together.”

Nodding, Julius led him to the interior bathroom and used his mouthpiece to inform the team of the delay as he confirmed all the stalls were empty with the teenager. Leaving, he shut the door behind him. It was only moments until he heard water running. 

I didn’t hear a toilet, the guard thought with curiosity and carefully cracked the door.

Adrian didn’t see him. He was running water to cover the murmur of his words. The boy had wrapped his arms around his body and was facing the far wall, resting his forehead on the tile. It was jumbled but Julius heard enough. 

The heir was telling himself that he could do this. It was only twenty minutes and he only had to shake hands. He didn’t have to hug and he didn’t have to cross the fence. “You cannot...down. This is his...and you... not spoil that.”

What is it like, Julius thought, to be unable to own your own body? He couldn’t imagine. Quietly he shut the door. It is a personal policy that has served you well to never get involved, but maybe… 

The water stopped and Julius held his breath. A moment later, Alucard came out and smiled gently. “I am ready,” he said confidently and the security guard nodded, leading him out into the foyer where his parents waited. 

“Everything alright darling?” his mother asked and held out her hand to her son.

Not especially, Julius thought and wondered if she could see it in Adrian’s face. He reminded himself that safety, not mental health, was his job.

The family murmured together for a moment and the door opened. The roar of the crowd was actually deafening and they were over 100 feet away. There was no possible way to hear anything. The security detail fanned out, reverting to an obvious presence rather than attempting to blend. 

The family approached the gate and walked through once it opened. There was a long strip of space for greeting, made possible by crowd control barriers. The family split, Vlad in the middle, Lisa to the left and Adrian to the right.

Julius stayed close to Adrian, within arm's reach, watching him stand three feet from the crowd control barriers and wave to the crowd who was absolutely screaming in his face. The two other officers stood off to either side, a respectful distance but within ten feet.

The crowd comprised individuals of all ages and genders, it didn’t seem to matter. There were signs with Adrian’s face, signs proclaiming love and devotion. There were reaching hands with flowers and plush bears extended. People were sobbing, hysterical, excited, bellowing. 

Through it all, the teenager remained composed. He smiled, nodded, waved, and walked slowly to give people the chance to take his picture and have a moment. 

Julius approved of his distance. The crowd was a crush of people, far more than they’d anticipated for the celebration. He knew that Adrian wore specialized body armour but the lack of headgear, the proximity of the crowd, and the unexpected, overwhelming numbers made him ill at ease.

Fifteen feet down the line, he saw her. There was a young woman holding a toddler who was dressed in a tiny version of Adrian’s outfit. She yelled something and held out a camera. The teenager grinned sweetly and turned to Julius. He pointed to the toddler and nodded to the security guard. 

Julius signalled the other two men, who held position. 

The teenager and the security guard approached the fence. Julius indicated Adrian would hold the child and the woman smiled, holding him out. Julius went to take him, and the child wailed. The mother took him back and said something to the officer, who leaned in and caught it.

He turned to the waiting teenager and pulled out his phone. He typed a quick message and held it out. “The child wants his mother, okay to take picture with both?”

Adrian read it and smiled, nodding. Julius signalled the two men, who came within five feet and altogether they moved in unison with Adrian to the fence. The crowd pressed hard, an excited surge that made the security guard hesitate.

The teenager was already shaking the mother’s hand and beaming at the toddler who seemed utterly dazzled by the spun gold ringlets. Tepes put out his hands and the child went without protest. The mother was jostled hard as those around her tried to touch the heir. 

One of the other security guards stepped to the fence to push the crowd back.

Wanting to get this over with now, Julius took the camera from her and stepped back to get the photo. The child was on Adrian’s hip and the blonde had a happy grin on his face as tiny hands twined in his curls. Behind him, the security guard watched carefully.

The woman leaned toward the heir for the photo, awkwardly angled and Adrian stepped back three steps to accommodate her. He came up right against the fence. It was a moment, a quick shift in the crowd and it all went south.

Maybe if he hadn’t been holding the child he wouldn’t have been so helpless. When Julius would think about it in the future he would be sure that was the case; Adrian’s self-preservation was overcome by his need to protect. 

Whatever it was, when his cape and hair were yanked by multiple greedy hands, he arched back, clutching the startled child. Julius dropped the camera as the other security guard was turning, reaching for Adrian. He saw the terror and the pain in the grimace and wide golden eyes.

The guards simply were not fast enough. Adrian was dragged over the fence and the crowd swallowed him whole.

Julius vaulted into the mob, panic high in his throat. All around people were thrashing, some trying to get to Adrian, some trying to see, some oblivious to what was happening. Using his elbows, the security guard made his way forward. 

Somehow he heard a high, thin wail--the child. Unsure if anyone could even hear him, he bellowed into his mike that he was in pursuit and pushed forward. There! They hadn’t gotten far with him, only about a dozen feet from the fence. 

A flash of golden hair and--people were bending, reaching, pushing. It was literal hell, a flesh prison that smelled of sweat, excitement and, a desperate energy that was slightly sour. Suddenly he stumbled on a boot and there was Adrian, huddled around the child as people grabbed at him, ripped at his hair, his clothes, his body.

There was nowhere to go and no way to get him out. Without hesitation, Julius popped the emergency smoke flare from his belt and held it up. Orange smoke plumed thick and heavy. He reached for the blonde, almost pushed down with him as he hauled Adrian up to his chest and looked around. 

The crush was unreal and there was no way they were going to reach them, flare or no flare. The toddler was screaming, Adrian was crying, and Julius couldn’t hear anything. When one more person reached out for the blonde, their face an ugly mask of feverish frenzy, he was done. 

He pulled his gun and brandished it.

The people around him shrank back as much as they could and it was enough of a space that Julius could angle Adrian forward. The heir was quaking, torn and mangled but walking. The two worked their way forward; Julius at his side, weapon over his shoulder and Adrian cowering into the security guard, clutching the squirming, sobbing child.

Suddenly the part in the crowd widened significantly and a full detail of five men surged forward, surrounding the pair and moving them back into the corridor. Four more men pulled the barrier back and allowed them to pass before fixing the gate back in place. 

One of them reached for the child and Adrian shrank back in terror.

Keeping one hand on the blonde, Julius leaned into Adrian’s ear and said, “He’s safe, let him go.” The teenager jerked abruptly before woodenly passing him over to the other officer. Suddenly flashbulbs were going off in blinding succession. 

Son of a bitch, Julius thought and turned the boy away from the press, toward the safety of the house.

Julius glanced up and saw Lord and Lady Tepes waiting inside the gate. Vlad was stony-faced and Lisa was openly distressed. He had to scream directly into Adrian’s ear. “There are your parents. Let’s walk, I have you, and I will get you to the house.”

Adrian sagged against him, but nodded. Together they swiftly crossed the corridor into the safety of the courtyard. The gate closed behind them and the blonde started weeping again. As they approached the Tepes’ Lisa turned to Vlad and said something before starting toward them. Adrian stiffened and shook his head at his mother. He pointed to the house.

Lisa stopped, face stricken and then nodded, turning to the building. Vlad joined her and the security detail brought up the rear. At the base of the steps to the entrance, Julius stopped to let Adrian go up himself. The blonde paused and looked at him.

His face was that of a tormented angel. His clothes were torn, his sword missing, dirt smeared across his face, a shallow scrape across his cheek that was crusting blood now. Someone had cut or torn a chunk of his hair from the side, a long wing missing. But somehow, the worst part was the half-smeared lip imprints in three different shades of lipstick. They were like brands on his pale skin.

It’s like he was a thing instead of a person, he thought. Instead of a kid. Julius had seen mob behaviour before but this was the first time he realized what might have happened in the middle of a thousand people. Thank God he had found Adrian in time.

“Thank you,” the teenager mouthed and Julius nodded. As the blonde mounted the steps to his parents, pity swamped the security guard. Nothing was worth this and the young man had no way to escape.

Julius woke that night in a panic, sweating, with his heart pounding as he tried to shed a dream where he couldn’t find Adrian in a sea of limbs. He couldn't see him but he could hear the sounds of wolves ripping flesh while the boy wept.

It was at that point that Julius finally acknowledged to himself that he was too emotionally attached to Adrian. He cared too much about the teenager's well-being and it meant he was too invested. It didn’t mean he couldn’t do his job, but Julius had always maintained his emotional distance. Somehow the blonde had quietly side-stepped that.

From that day on, Adrian chose Julius every time he had a public appearance. Julius volunteered whenever Adrian needed a chauffeur or escort. Neither man ever said what had happened that day but they both knew. There was a bond of understanding between them now and it would only grow. They never questioned it.

Present Day, Anish Kapoor Opening

Julius moved across the floor as quickly as possible after completing his escort of Adrian to his mother and Frank. It wasn’t like the time when Adrian was a teenager, that had been worse. It wasn’t like his 19th birthday either, and the Russian diplomat’s daughter, that had been more embarrassing. He hated when Adrian got cornered. He knew it brought it all back; it upset both of them when he was treated like a thing. Julius would never understand anyone who could look at someone else as a trophy to be obtained.

Searching the crowd, he located the white haired woman as she stalked out of the room. It was two seconds later that he saw Trevor’s form follow her through the arch. Oh fucking hell, Julius groaned inwardly and spoke into his microphone.

“We have a situation brewing, northeast balcony, left of the cannon sculpture thing, threat level yellow but media presence concern.” He heard Daniel and Florin respond and moved toward the balcony as quickly as he could.

Julius actually liked Trevor. He was funny, charming and there was something about the way he had protected Adrian from the federal agent that Julius respected. The man was completely inept when it came to hiding his emotions, but he was willing to back his words with his fists. That was something the security guard could resonate with.

When the heir went off to school he’d breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, Adrian would have a chance to cut loose, live freely and discover who he was. He waited for the requests for security to events or to vet the friends that Adrian brought home.

It never happened.

Then Sypha had appeared and Julius had been hopeful. She was so vibrant, carefree and kind; she seemed to see Adrian for who he really was. Vlad had made no bones about his hope that the two young people might eventually become romantically involved, but Julius was just happy to see Adrian have a friend who seemed to authentically like him.

All of the staff had money on it being more than friendship. Some thought Adrian would never make a move, some thought he was gay, some thought they were already involved. No one spoke about it within 100 feet of the Tepes. That would be a huge mistake.

For Julius’ part, he didn’t know and he would never bet. Of course it would be lovely if Sypha and Adrian decided to go the romantic route but honestly, Julius couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to be with a Tepes. Their lives would never be their own again if they did. 

In the meantime Adrian was happy. Truly happy. It wasn’t that the security officer had never seen him happy but this was different. There was a light-heartedness with Sypha, a playful youthfulness, that had been missing. It made him extremely happy to witness.

When he’d been asked to pick up the trio from school he’d been quietly intrigued. Sypha had a boyfriend now, but Adrian wanted to bring him home with her? That was significant and not something Master Tepes would do unless he was sure.

Could the blonde have found another friend? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? He’d realized his mistake by the time they’d finished lunch.

More than a friend, Julius thought again. Sypha was covering for them, he was sure of it. Trevor was a lover, not a friend. There had been too many signs on the way to the castle. 

Part of him felt several observations about Adrian from the years of guarding him click into place. The other part of Julius grieved for the blonde. There was absolutely no way that this relationship would survive. If Belmont was remotely prepared to play the social games, maybe, maybe they could keep it from Vlad and the world.

But there had already been too many hiccups. The showdown with the federal agent, sleeping in the limo together, the horseback riding, the scene in the dining room with Lisa, which would reach Vlad sooner or later, and perhaps the most damning, the covering of the security camera. He didn’t know how Adrian could be so foolish. That made it an incident that would be reported to Vlad and Lord Tepes was not a fool.

Now this mess. They’d arrived less than forty minutes ago and it was going sideways. If Julius thought it would help at all, he would have pulled Trevor aside himself and risked Adrian’s anger. As the security agent moved through the crowd, an older man disengaged from the crowd, his back a line of anxiety and tension as he rushed through the balcony entrance. Something about the way he moved… and then he heard Trevor’s voice, surprisingly alarmed. “Don’t touch me!” 

Julius’ instincts surged. He’d heard Belmont angry and this was not that. He opened the button that held his coat closed and risked drawing some eyes by jogging the last dozen feet. When he slipped through the doorway, he took in the scene in an instant. 

The white-haired woman that Julius knew would be quietly threatened by Vlad was standing a few paces from Belmont. Trevor was slouched against the railing, wiping blood off his mouth with a hand that held a small, gleaming blade.

Where is the man?  Julius thought and spied the black suit deep in the shadows behind him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, using his body to block anyone from leaving. Training had him angling his body toward the hidden man and his hand inched up to his concealed weapon.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Belmont said, but his voice was unsteady.

“Situation confirmed, threat level yellow, detain Draco and confirm holding Wolf. Update to follow,” he said into this mouthpiece.

Trevor snorted, “She’s the threat.” He pointed to the white haired woman.

Given what he’d seen her do to Adrian, Julius was inclined to agree. “You may go,” he said to the man behind him and stepped over to Belmont. His earpiece confirmed Adrian and Vlad were secured.

“Don’t block my line of sight to Braila!” Trevor hissed and Julius paused, looking back at the woman. She rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated shrug.

“Calm your tits, Christopher, you are just fine,” she sneered at him. “You are confused and mistaken.”

Christopher?  Julius wondered and looked at Trevor.

“Fuck you, I know what you are! You know what you did! I would never forget it,” he shook the nasty looking blade at her and Julius eyed it thoughtfully. “I have this because of you and I will use it on you if you ever come near any of us again.”

The white haired woman looked affronted and then looked at Julius, “You are a witness, he’s crazy! My name is Carmilla and he threatened me. I’m a small, unarmed woman; he’s twice my size!”

Trevor’s voice rose and there was a hysterical note in it that made Julius’ flesh goosebump in response. “You fucking liar! That’s what you want people to think! That’s what you pretend to be but you are a monster. You tortured me, told me you liked it when we screamed, when you-.” He bit the words off and rolled his shoulders. 

Julius swallowed hard. The ugliness was a sticky mess that Trevor had vomited out on the balcony between all of them. He eyed the woman, considering. She didn’t seem threatening but there was something distinctly unpleasant about her that he couldn’t put his finger on.  The security guard looked back at the bloody lip and furious eyes of Belmont. 

Adrian, he thought with dismay, do you know what kind of baggage this man has? Whether it was true or not, the utterance of such a thing was incredibly serious. “Did she hit you?” Julius asked, indicating his bleeding mouth. Trevor shook his head vehemently.

“Not this time. This was Professor Shaft; the man who just left.” The sculptor told him.

“Well shit,” Julius said unhappily. Vlad would not be pleased.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Trevor said.

----

His mother looked back at him, concerned but unaware of the importance of the question. She is still focused on what happened to me, he thought. Carmilla actually touched me, kissed me. He shuddered, the nausea building. 

It was a violation, layered on all the history of such incidents. Groping hands, mouths, people who wanted a claim to flesh that wasn’t theirs and to touch skin that was the only protection he had against the crush of expectation. 

Trevor would have lost his mind, he thought with alarm. Why can I never get this right with him? Warn him properly? There was no question, Trevor would have seen what Carmilla did and he would have reacted.

God, what if he realized it was Carmilla? What if Christopher Wise realized? He thought with rising panic.

“He wasn’t waiting when we got back,” Sypha said. There was a hitch of concern in her voice and Adrian knew, Trevor would blow the whole thing to kingdom come if it meant he could protect them.

“We have to find him now,” his eyes were on his mother. “It’s like Father with Bernhard.” Lisa inhaled sharply as her eyes went wide. She whirled and went around the corner. He could hear her asking Frank to check with security to see who was with Trevor.

“Who or what is Bernhard?” Sypha asked him and Adrian took a shuddering breath.

“Check my eyes, I can’t look like I’ve been crying.” Adrian bent over so she could look. “We need to hurry, I think Trevor might be confronting Carmilla and that is bad for a number of reasons. If he realizes who she is…”

Sypha looked confused. “Why should it matter who she is?”

Because Christopher Wise has a showing with her in a week and Trevor still hasn’t told us who he is, he thought and hated that he was holding this lie for Belmont now too.

“Bernhard was a rival for mother who took it too far,” he said instead and Sypha’s breath whooshed out.

“Oh shit, Vlad would have gone ballistic,” Sypha said, gentle fingertips under his eyes.

Adrian thought of his father’s face the one time they’d talked about this. Understanding that his father could actually be dangerous in the right circumstance. “I don’t think it went well for Bernhard,” the painter agreed. “And I am concerned that it might be the same reaction for Trevor. It’s been a stressful day for him.”

Sypha stepped back, “All done, let’s go.” She gave his cheek a stroke and Adrian nuzzled into her palm. He glanced over her shoulder and up to the corners. No witnesses and no cameras. 

Quickly he tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle scrape, a quick nip and a murmured, “Thank you; I love you.”

She moaned, lashes fluttering and smiled. “Oh, mmm, me too. So much love.”

Even with his worry, he had to smile. She looked so pleased with him. “More later, I promise.”

“Deal,” she said and turned to go back around the corner when they heard Lisa’s voice. 

“Is he alright?” Lady Tepes was asking and Adrian jerked with a low hiss.

No, no, no! What happened?! He rounded the corner quickly, Sypha trotting behind him. He saw his mother and Frank conferring quietly.

“What happened to Trevor!” Adrian snapped out and Lisa looked up suddenly. Frank’s face was surprised and uncertain. You are not hiding this well, the blonde thought belatedly.

“I’m very worried!” Sypha said urgently, matching his level of concern and patting his back. “I’m afraid I might have been too honest about that with you, Adrian, thank you though,” she said before turning back to Lady Tepes.

“Trevor was punched by Professor Shaft,” Lisa said without preamble. 

“What?!” Adrian and Sypha said in unison. Incredulity was a bright tang on his palate. Of everything his mother could have said, that was one he didn’t see coming.

“Yes, he punched Trevor in the face, just once," Lisa frowned and Frank nodded.

Not the head, again! Adrian thought with real concern.

“We are still getting the details,” Lisa continued, “but apparently Shaft was involved in completing the write up for the exhibition pamphlet and had secured an invitation months ago because of it.”

“Standard procedure to check the guest list before an event,” Frank chimed in, “don’t know how this was missed.”

“Shaft wouldn’t be on the list,” Adrian murmured. “They wouldn’t consider him a guest, he’s a member of the curatorial staff, all of whom have been vetted before.” He looked at his mother. “Is he okay?”

“Yes,” her eyes held a warning. “He is okay.”

“But?” Adrian prompted and Lisa sighed. 

“He confronted Carmilla Styria. Vlad is with him now,” she said quietly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Adrian’s stomach flipped in an unpleasant somersault and he saw the matching dismay in his mother’s eyes.

“Can we see him?” Sypha asked, real anxiety in her voice now.

“They are on their way here,” Lisa said. “I’m afraid we may need to cut the evening short.”

Logically, he knew this was reasonable and fair but the image of Trevor’s excited happiness over Anish Kapoor made him pause. “Are Carmilla and Shaft gone now?” he asked.

“I believe so, yes?” Lisa said and Adrian took a breath.

“I know this was a rocky start but do you think we might stay?” he asked.

“Frank,” Lisa said, but the man was already moving down the hallway to the entrance, giving them room.

“Adrian, sweetheart, this is a mess. I suspect your father will be very displeased; you know how he feels about public scenes and there have been two now, in less than fifteen minutes. Carmilla made a spectacle for the press, and now Shaft, which is an unpleasant surprise.” Her face was apologetic.

“If it helps, it’s only going to make things worse for the professor.” Her mouth quirked. “Shaft will regret this. Your father will take this personally and he's already plotting some form of retribution against him for the scene at the school,” the quirk broke into a small grin, “Even though he swears he isn’t. You know him.”

Adrian had to snort. Plotting was the perfect term. Vlad didn’t let such things go. 

“Good,” Sypha said vengefully and Adrian looked at her in surprise.

“What? He made your life miserable, threatened both of you and now he’s put his hands on Trevor? I hope Vlad has a good time and does a thorough job of it.” She sniffed daintily. “Shaft deserves it.”

He put his hands on Trevor. Adrian wanted to snarl. It was probably for the best that he hadn’t been there, he probably would have decked the professor. And made a bad scene, worse. You know better. He was doing his best to remember that.  Taking several deep breaths he rolled his neck. Then he remembered why they were here in the first place. “Trevor was very excited about meeting Anish,” Adrian said quietly. “It was important to him.”

Understanding gentled Lisa’s face and she touched his arm. “Let’s see how they are doing before making a decision alright?” He nodded, and Sypha murmured.

“I see Vlad,” she said and the group turned.

His father was laughing, although that could mean anything. Vlad could maintain public facades like an Oscar winner. He would know once he saw Trevor. Trevor, his heart yearned. You can’t touch, you can only look. Act like it’s nothing, don’t--and he saw him.

The sculptor was nodding politely, a small smile playing on his lips. His hair was slightly mussed and as he watched, the sculptor touched his mouth with a wince. Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think we need to take him to a hospital?” he asked his mother. “The whole concussion thing?”

“Not unless he lost consciousness. We’ll ask,” she responded. Sypha squeezed his arm gently and leaned to him.

“What concussion thing?” she asked him softly. Quickly he explained it to her, watching her face undergo anger, concern and horror before it settled into stubborn lines.

“This is gonna stop damn it. He is going to take care of himself and eat right and ask for help and he’s gonna--.”

“Uh oh, who is in trouble?” Vlad asked with a grin as the pair moved past Frank into the hallway. Their security escorts stopped to confer quietly with Frank. Vlad wiggled his brows. “I recognize that tone, Sypha!”

“My boyfriend should recognize it too,” she said, looking at Trevor, who coughed and looked away. Adrian couldn’t help it, he snickered. Literally everyone knew to get out of the way when Sypha was on a tear.

“Might be time to grovel, Trevor,” Vlad said with a chuckle. He clapped Trevor on the back good-naturedly.

The brunette threw Vlad a wry look and stepped up to Sypha. “I can explain.” He glanced at Adrian. “I, umm--”

It was for me. Adrian knew it. Sypha knew it. But Trevor couldn’t say it here and everyone was watching. The blonde swallowed hard and stepped aside. 

“Why don’t you two take a minute?” he said softly, and saw the resignation on Trevor’s face. Sypha took his hand and led him down the hallway. When Trevor passed him, Adrian let his fingers brush the hem of his jacket. I love you, it’s okay. I understand.

“Master Tepes?” Julius called him and the blonde turned in a mirror movement of his lovers. There was a phone in his hands and the security guard was looking at him. There was something in Julius’ eyes and Adrian felt the hair rise on his arms.

“I need to ask you something; for the incident report. Could you come here for a moment, please?” Adrian nodded, stepping forward. Whatever Julius wanted to ask him, there was something under it, some message that the security guard was trying to give him.

Trevor cut in, bitter fury in his voice. “No, no you will not tell him. That is not yours to tell. I will tell him.”

“Trevor, that’s not--,” Julius began, and Trevor tensed, turning to Adrian and putting his hand on Sypha.

“I have history with Carmilla. But I knew her as Braila.” He said it as though it should have some significance, some important weight. But Adrian didn’t understand. He could see from Sypha’s face that she was at a loss too. He opened his mouth to tell Trevor they could discuss it later when  Julius hissed unhappily. 

“No Trevor, not that.” He said slowly, “I just wanted to ask Adrian if you frequently went by the name Christopher, that’s all. Carmilla, the white haired woman, she called him Christopher.”

Trevor paled and his eyes flew to Adrian. Sypha looked at Trevor and then looked at Adrian, her face like child who was just told that the tooth fairy wasn't real. I am so sorry my love, he thought.

The blonde answered calmly, “Yes, Carmilla would know him as Christopher. Christopher Wise is the name he uses to sell his art."

---

How does it feel
When you treat me like you do
And you've laid your hands upon me
And told me who you are?
I thought I was mistaken
And I thought I heard your words
Tell me, how do I feel?
Tell me now, how do I feel?
Those who came before me
Lived through their vocations
From the past until completion
They will turn away no more
And I still find it so hard
To say what I need to say
But I'm quite sure that you'll tell me
Just how I should feel today

-"Blue Monday '88," New Order

Notes:

If you've read this far, you've officially read over 200k of Badly and I am grovelling in awe. Bless you, thank you and oh my gosh I don't know what happened but it's been wild!!
---
Moodboard pics: Alucard cosplay from Adrian-Farenheights -Deviant Art. Sculpture- Anish Kapoor "My Red Homeland" photographed in Rotonda di Via Besana, Milano, 2011.
---
The Badly Playlist is up to date!

Chapter 44: One more bad dream

Summary:

Adrian closed his eyes for a moment and was constructing a response when his mother spoke. “I think conjecture is pointless at this time. It’s between Sypha and Trevor.”

Vlad kept his eyes on his son. “Is it though?” 

A chill ran down the painter’s spine and he turned fully to his father, eyes locked on the dark, penetrating gaze with slashes of black knitted above them.

“What are you saying, Father?” the painter asked carefully.

Notes:

Chapter 44- It Started Out Badly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The shark floated amidst the flash of gold and green as the schools of fish flitted by him. The predator seemed oblivious to them, uncaring of what his surroundings were. Isaac supposed that was because he didn’t have to care. He didn’t have to worry, the shark was secure in his supremacy.

Was Vlad Tepes the same way? The federal agent wondered. Did he just cover his tracks so well that he knew he never had to worry again?

The art gallery was a dead end and he couldn’t believe it. Hector Fauri had been cool, calm and completely unhelpful. It had been surprising, actually. The nerves he’d glimpsed in the artistic director’s eyes hadn’t been nearly enough to sway the man’s serene resistance.

It was almost suspicious in a way, as though Vlad had already instructed him on what to say if anyone came looking. Was it possible that Lord Tepes could have had that much foresight? he wondered.

He thought back to the fine boned, handsome face, the swing of the lush ash blonde hair and the eyes that scrutinized him so closely. Hector had been so watchful that Isaac had resisted the compulsion to brush his face because he was sure something was on it.

Everything in Hector’s movements had suggested tranquil confidence. But it was what he didn’t do that spoke the most. 

Hector never touched him, save for the accidental brush of his fingers when he took the agent’s card. He never made any quick movements or stepped out of Isaac’s immediate view. When Isaac intentionally leaned forward to pin the artistic director with his eyes, Hector’s body had not moved at all. Not even to breathe. He couldn’t decide if it was a gentleness of nature taken to extreme or a fearful caution.

As if he was prey and I was predator, Isaac thought, watching the shark behind the glass. 

The aquarium was annoyingly busy right now so he could not sit in his usual spot on the bench. Instead, he had elected to lean against the back wall and ignore the dozens of school children putting greasy streaks all over the glass. It wasn’t that he faulted them for their wonder or enthusiasm, it was that the creatures who lived in the water were sensitive to the vibrations.

It was a pleasant surprise when a teacher stepped up, clapped their hands, and explained that the students were not to touch the glass because it could make the animals sick. An intense battery of questions came after that and Isaac let his mind return to Hector.

The artistic director’s voice had been carefully neutral as well. Hector’s tone had not changed either, until Isaac had put emphasis on how Trevor changing his name suggested something underhanded. 

There’d been a distinctly prickly edge to Hector’s tone when he said he had nothing to say without Isaac producing a warrant or a requirement for the information.

It was interesting.

There was a flaw in the artistic director’s image. Hector was a seemingly perfect example of a competent, self-contained authority but there was something off. It wasn’t the immaculately fashionable image, the carefully groomed presentation or even the gracefully efficient movements of his body. It was something in his stillness.

I should run him, Isaac thought and then wondered what excuse he could use to do so. 

Technically Hector hadn’t done anything to warrant it, but it nagged at him. There was something there, something below the surface that the analytical part of Isaac wanted to uncover. The basic telephone ring of his cellphone brought him out of his reverie and he engaged the call.

“Where the fuck are ya?” Godbrand’s voice boomed out and Isaac resisted hanging up.

“On my way back to the office,” the agent said. “I am just catching lunch.”

“What are ya talking about?” Godbrand snorted. “You are actually eating out somewhere? Bullshit!”

“As charming as your commentary on my eating habits is, was there something more urgent you required?” Isaac asked drily, eyes on the silver bodies of the fish as they scooted out of the way of the cruising predator.

“Yeah, I want to know why I just got pulled into the boss’s office asking why a guy called Hector Ferrari called to confirm you were employed in the field office, citing an investigation into Trevor Belmont as the cause for his call?”

Awareness prickled over Isaac and he straightened from the wall. With a last look at the shark, he started toward the exit. “Hector Fauri,” he corrected. “What exactly did he say?”

“Hey, more importantly, what the fuck are ya doing?” The eagerness in Godbrand’s voice was a warning bell. “Do ya think Belmont killed his parents? What’s the angle?”

“No,” Isaac shut it down immediately. Godbrand would love a reason to harass Belmont further and this was a delicate house of cards Isaac was building. The last thing he needed was his partner’s version of ‘help,’ which was as subtle as a broken bottle in a bar fight.

“Well fuck, that blows,” his partner grumbled. “What're ya doing then?”

Isaac exited into the sunshine and smiled at the incoming storm clouds. It was a good omen for his plans. 

“Taking the roundabout path to rattle a certain lord’s cage.”
---

It took her a moment. What clued her in was Adrian’s apologetic face. Christopher Wise is Trevor Belmont. 

Emotions layered on her like blankets on a bed. Of course he was showing under another name, he can’t under ‘Belmont.’ Why would he tell Adrian but not me? Did Adrian know when he bought his work?

She thought about the blonde inviting her to the art showing, how excited he was. How he hoped to meet him there and show his support for a burgeoning talent. He was still undecided on Trevor at that point, there was no chance he’d known it was Belmont.

The redhead remembered Trevor’s horror about taking any more money from the painter. How furious he’d been at the suggestion of asking Adrian for assistance, even for school. If it was an act, he was in the wrong art department. 

She looked at the sculptor and his face told her. Adrian kept this from both of us. 

It crushed her. Adrian didn’t lie to her; he never had. Had he? She wondered and hated that she doubted now. It was exhausting. Just when she thought all the secrets were done, something else reared up. The digital artist had thought they were finally unifying into something solid and permanent.

Maybe we never really will be, she despaired. Maybe the reason it never seems to come together is because you saw something that only reflected the yearning in your heart and not the reality. 

She didn’t want to believe that but...  Is this the reason Adrian won’t tell Trevor he loves him? She wondered suddenly. He knew Trevor was holding this back, keeping something for himself. Did it make him doubt whether Trevor really wants us? 

And why was Trevor holding this back? Was it in case the trio didn’t work out? Had he wanted to protect himself? She felt the tears well up alongside the doubts and looked at her lovers.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian said quietly to her, hands fiddling with his cufflinks. Like a tears falling from the heavens, the hope she’d been clinging to that somehow this was a misunderstanding plummeted to the cold ground.

Adrian lied. She was sure now. Her best friend, her lover. She looked at Trevor. Both my lovers. They lied to me.

“How did you know that?” Trevor whispered, voice raw. “How the fuck did you know?”

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind them and Sypha closed her eyes. We have an audience, she remembered.

“He didn’t know it when we were at the Ainav,” Lisa said crisply, “but obviously something changed. I think you should all take a moment to compose yourselves and then we should leave. This isn’t the place to have this discussion.”

What discussion? Sypha thought bitterly. This isn’t a discussion, it’s an unveiling of pain. It’s the realization that there are still lies and secrets between us that can wound and fester. Trevor took a deep breath. He wouldn’t look at her.

Adrian looked back at his parents. She followed his gaze. That was when Sypha saw Vlad’s face. Lord Tepes was looking at her. There was worry and confusion on his face but what was more troubling was the anger. She didn’t think he had the context to understand why this moment was significant.

The redhead knew he wouldn’t approve of lying, but that didn’t explain the depth of emotion he was displaying. It wasn’t possible that he... Realization was a thunderclap that shook the foundations of her heart. He can see what this means to me.

It was heartwarming and incredibly sweet but only made her feel worse. Above all, she did not want to taint what appeared to be a good opinion of Trevor. She did not want to jeopardize the understanding that the men seemed to have reached.

Sypha tried to smile, to reassure him but she faltered. She simply couldn’t hold out against the authentic worry and empathy in his face. Lord Tepes took a half-step forward, reaching for her. It was so paternal and so tender that the threatening tear fell. 

Don’t upset him; don’t make this a mark against Trevor! she thought desperately and sniffed. Trevor’s head shot up and he looked at her. The misery in his eyes matched the wounds in her heart. 

He turned to her, using the shield of his body to create a space where he was speaking just to her. “I’m sorry Sypha, I really am. I never meant, I didn’t… it was never the right time.”

Was it ever going to be? the digital artist wondered but simply nodded. We cannot do this with an audience.

Lisa murmured to Adrian and passed him something. Her best friend stepped to her other side, giving Trevor a wide berth. The sculptor moved back, his movements brittle and stiff. Sypha stifled a sigh. I’m so tired of this, she thought, her heart a raft in the tumult of a squall. One step forward, two steps back. A dance of trust that never seems to lock in place.

Adrian offered her a tiny, delicate handkerchief embroidered with violets and edged in lace. Sypha managed a smile and a watery laugh. “Oh thank you Lisa but I can’t use this, my mascara will ruin it.”

“Oh sweetie, don’t worry about that, believe me, this wouldn’t be the first time it has seen makeup,” Lisa said gently. 

Flashing a grateful smile, Sypha carefully dabbed at her eyes and handed the cloth back to Adrian. She watched his fingers close over it so tightly that his knuckles went white. His eyes were on her face and she would not meet them, afraid she might cry again if she looked at him. Instead, she dug into her reserves and forced a smile.

Stepping around him, she went past the two men who’d lied to her and put out her hand to Vlad. “I am so sorry about all of this,” she said calmly, “and for worrying you. Lisa is right, Trevor and I will discuss this privately later, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. If you would like to see the exhibits we could…”

“Sypha, we need to just go,” Trevor spoke from behind her and she firmed her lips.

I am trying to show this isn’t a big deal, Trevor! she internally screamed. I am trying for you and you just-!

“Belmont is right,” Vlad said gently to her, dark, intense eyes on her. He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “I’m afraid the evening is over.” He looked over her shoulder and she knew he was looking at Trevor. “I think you and Trevor need a chance to speak alone. Adrian will ride with us.”

Sypha bit the inside of her lip and sighed. Splitting them up would only cloud things further. “Yes, of course, thank you.”

---

The tension inside of Adrian was like the split second resistance of a pumpkin rind against a knife, right before the seeded guts spilled out. He felt stretched, thinner and more fragile every step he took from Sypha towards his parents. 

Her grief was a thick coating that weighed down his skin and he could have screamed in frustration. Why didn’t I just tell her? Why didn’t I broach this topic sooner? Why didn’t Trevor just fucking tell us?

It would have been easier if he could have just been angry at Trevor and left it at that. But he couldn’t. This was on him just as much, if not more so. Adrian had just wanted the sculptor to trust him enough to share the secret willingly. It was the painter’s own selfishness, his own need to have Trevor bestow his trust. It meant that instead of sharing trust, he’d broken it. 

Now he’d put doubt where there had been none. He’d lied to Sypha for the first time in their relationship and it was a sticky bitterness he couldn’t swallow. I can’t even apologize because there is no conceivable reason to ride with them! he thought with frustration.

His life meant that the dance of secrecy was not unfamiliar to him, but it had never stung so deep. The inability to just be open with his emotions in front of the people who mattered the most to him was venomous hooks under his skin and it burned like salt on open wounds. 

The limos were called and the Tepes’ and their companions departed quietly out of the back exit. A soft rain had started to fall and the painter watched it course down the window as they sped through the city. Even though he knew that Trevor’s and Sypha’s limo was right behind theirs it felt like they were across a canyon filled with grasping hands. 

I just want an hour alone, he thought, to hear, to explain, to understand. I want this to be simpler so that I don’t have to explain why I am touching them or worry someone might see what they mean to me. 

“You are brooding,” Vlad commented as he drummed his fingers on his knee. Adrian swallowed his annoyance. In fairness to his father, as far as Vlad knew this was a disagreement between Trevor and Sypha. There was no way for Lord Tepes to know the emotional turmoil that the blonde was currently wading through.

Adrian offered a slight incline of his head but did not speak.

“What is this Christopher Wise business? Sypha didn’t know he had another name?” Lord Tepes persisted. 

Adrian closed his eyes for a moment and was constructing a response when his mother spoke. “I think conjecture is pointless at this time. It’s between Sypha and Trevor.”

Vlad kept his eyes on his son. “Is it though?” 

A chill ran down the painter’s spine and he turned fully to his father, eyes locked on the dark, penetrating gaze with slashes of black knitted above them.

“What are you saying, Father?” the painter asked carefully.

“I’m saying that you shouldn’t be covering for Belmont. Don’t let him get between you and Sypha.”

Adrian’s relief and incredulity twined together. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly and looked back out the window.

“I fail to see why this is amusing, Adrian,” Vlad growled. “You’ve known Belmont for what? Two weeks? Sypha’s been your dearest friend for-!”

“It’s not amusing,” the painter said quietly and sighed. He didn’t want to lie but he recognized the signs. His father would not drop this until he believed Adrian understood his responsibility. “And they will sort it out. No one is between anyone else in a bad sense.” Only in the sense that everything I want in the world is wrapped up in two people that I cannot even tell you that I love, he finished silently. 

“If you aren’t between them, how did you come to know about his secret identity if she didn’t?”

“It’s not a secret identity; it’s an alias he uses to sell his artwork. It’s no different than an author’s pseudonym.”

“Then why didn’t she know about it, Adrian? Why would a pseudonym make her cry?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his father to ask her himself but he bit it back. It was his requirement that they be secret, not Sypha’s and not Trevor’s. The questions were his fault and his responsibility, not theirs. He chose his words with the care of a mountain goat leaping from crag to ledge. “I cannot say for certain. I suspect that Trevor had his reasons. I only knew because I recognized his art when I helped him move into his new apartment.”

He shifted, still wary. “At the time Mother and I bought his pieces, I didn’t know. I didn’t intentionally lie to her, which I will explain to her when we get home.”

Vlad’s eyebrows raised even as his gaze grew spectaculative. “You gave him money?”

The way his father said it raised more flags than a military parade in his guts. Why can I never say the right thing? he asked silently. Why do you always question my decisions? What will it take to earn your respect and will I ever actually obtain it?

“Yes and no,” he said. “I,” he glanced at his mother, “we paid the Ainav for artwork that I wanted to own, from an artist whom I only realized later was my friend. I didn’t give Trevor anything, it was a business transaction.”

“It’s even simpler than that,” Lisa interjected, voice collected and reasonable, “it was an early birthday present because I could see how much our son loved the sculptures.”

“I hate to be the one to point this out, but this all sounds extremely questionable,” Lord Tepes gripped the armrest and shook his head. “Whether or not Belmont has cause to sell under an alias is beside the point. He kept it from his friend and his girlfriend. Why would he do that?”

“I can think of half a dozen reasons, Vlad,” Lisa said, spreading her hands.

I’m glad you can Mother, because frankly, I really can’t, Adrian thought sourly but just nodded.

“And why am I the only one worried about Sypha in this?” Vlad asked sharply, irritation climbing into his voice.

“Believe me,” Adrian said, tired of the argument and tired of the lies. “She is very much at the forefront of my concerns right now.”

---

“You fucking liar,” she said, tears rolling down. “You lied to both of us and somehow Adrian found out. It doesn’t matter how he found out, but he did. Then you both lied to me and for what? Why?”

Trevor didn’t try to touch her or even to explain. She was right, completely right, and nothing he could say would help him right now. Better to listen and just take it.

“Why! Why Trevor?!” her voice rose with anger, demanding answers he didn’t even fully understand himself. The tangled emotions inside of him rose up to meet her accusal. 

“I’m sorry, really Sypha, I am,” he said, shame a bitter flavor that slicked over unhappiness.

“That’s not an answer,” she stated firmly. “I want to know why this was so important to you that you would lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie; I just didn’t tell you.” It was out before he thought about it and immediately wished for the words back. How exactly is that going to help with this? he admonished himself.

Outrage bloomed over her face and she narrowed her eyes, “Do you love me, Trevor?”

Panic cut his lungs into tattered sails at the same time a bright red sticker of resentment slapped itself onto his mouth. “Of course I do, Sypha! For fuck’s sake, I made a mistake and I am sorry.”

“Then don’t treat me like an idiot,” she snapped out. “You knew damn well I thought Christopher Wise was a separate person and you let me keep thinking that. That’s a lie.”

Just keep it shut Belmont, don’t make this worse, he thought. His heart and his head ached in tandem.

“The fall-out from C. Leon was bad, I know that! But I thought that was just a blip, a misunderstanding based on your fears around taking money and losing Adrian. I didn’t think this would be the norm! That would have been the time to tell us about Christopher!”

Keeping it shut was not going to happen. He barked a laugh, harsh, joyless and miserable. “Oh yeah, right after I almost lost Adrian, and you had to separate us! After he cried and told us how many times he’s been used for his money, I just say, 'Oh hey, by the way, this isn't actually what this looks like!' ”

Temper was edging up under the panic and he tried to fight it. It was a losing battle. He was tired of being afraid this evening, and having no time to pull himself back together left him raw. “Did it ever occur to you that this wasn’t about you at all?” he asked her. “That I was trying not to put you in the middle of this fucking mess? That I was trying to find a way to tell you two?” 

He raked his hands through his hair and stared at her. Her lip trembled and he hated himself. This wasn’t her fault, it was his. His anger cooled and his voice quieted. “I actually was. I’m not sitting here gloating over lying to you. It made me sick. I hated it.”

He despised the shame it brought with it, but he would give her the truth now, no matter how much it burned his pride. “I didn’t know how to say, ‘Hey, by the way, I am a big fucking liar whose family history is so shitty that my damned name is a death sentence in the one career path that means anything to me.’ So once again I have to let my parent’s criminal legacy dictate my whole life!” 

He closed his eyes and pressed stiff fingers against the rising headache that was trying to ram a speeding cruiser through his skull. “I tried, a dozen times, to tell you two. Every missed opportunity, it became a bigger deal in my head. Every day I thought about it and wondered if this would be the thing that ruined what I’ve found with you two.”

The vulnerability scraped over him and chopped little divots into his self-worth. There was no one else he would risk this much for. Sypha and Adrian, they were it for him. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you, he thought. To be worthy of you.

“Don’t you think I know, every day, that I could lose you both just because of the mess that is me and my life? I don’t know how I got lucky enough to be with you in the first place. I dread the mistake that I will make that will make me lose you, and this end result was exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

He dropped his hand, opened his eyes and forced himself to say it. “I love you both, more than I can stand, and I can’t lose you. That makes me afraid, Sypha, because all I do in life is lose. I’m a loser. That’s not a self-pitying statement, it’s just a fucking reality that I am trying to reverse.” Her face was pained and he swallowed hard. “I really believed I was changing my luck when I got into the school and got the scholarship. Then I met you and I met Adrian.”

He didn’t know it but his smile was an offering of self-deprecating helplessness. “And what do I find, but all the things that I took as signs that my luck was finally turning are connected to the two people I love. The only two people that I have in the entire world. And I keep fucking it up because I can’t seem to get this right.” He looked down at his hands. “There aren't enough apologies I can offer, and I will say them as long as you need to hear them.”

Voice thick, he tried not to think about what happened if she didn’t believe him. “Just don’t think this was some sinister plot. It’s just this stupid fear that what has happened is exactly what would happen, and bad fucking timing.”

Silence fell and he did not look up. So when she placed her hand over his fist, he saw it. Her grasp was soft, warm and strong. He looked at the pale skin, the freckles on her second knuckle and the graceful rounded curve of her thumb. Does she even know all the need and strength and hope that her skin holds inside of it? he wondered.

“Apology accepted.” She said softly. “I know it’s not easy for you to tell me you were afraid but it helps.”

I’m glad because then that makes this awful reminder list of all my shortcomings worth it. He didn’t look at her. This wasn’t over yet and it would only get worse because the disclosures weren't done yet.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she eased over to his seat and came alongside him. “You aren’t a loser. Losers don’t keep trying, Trevor.”

You’re wrong Sypha. I only kept moving, he thought. That isn’t trying; it’s just not dying. 

“Losers give up and accept their lot in life. You aren’t a loser, you are a survivor. You refuse to take what life allots to you and you sculpt it into something better. You never give up on yourself. I admire that in you and respect it enormously.” She brought her hand to his chin and brought his head up.

The blue of her eyes that looked like an infinite beginning was clear and kind as it swam across the space between them. “And I am not going anywhere Trevor Belmont. You are stuck with me. I love you.”

It should have been a relief. It should have given him a moment of peace. But he knew that all the secrets needed to be out now and there was no hiding this one anymore. Trevor took a deep breath and closed his eyes for the last push. It was the ugliest, and he knew that everything teetered on this precipice. If she turned from him now, his heart would never heal.

“Sypha, I need to tell you about Braila,” he said.

---

I'm all out of hope
One more bad dream
Could bring a fall
When I'm far from home
Don't call me on the phone
To tell me you're alone
It's easy to deceive
It's easy to tease
But hard to get release

-"Eyes Without A Face," Billy Idol

Notes:

I've got the next four chapters plotted in my head and ohhhhh my lord hang on to your butts.
---
I'm behind in writing back on comments, I am sorry!! I hope to have the chance to get back to all of you by Sunday. I really do appreciate your words and your readership, thank you so much!! 💖
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Metal sculpture: zengxiao lin via Unsplash, Adrian model: Danila Kovalev, Trevor: Paul Kelly, Sypha: Wattpad (model unknown).

Chapter 45: Take my tears and that's not nearly all

Summary:

“And what do you see?” she asked him, blowing out smoke into the night air.

“Someone I would be interested in getting to know better?” he said. “My name is Trevor, what’s yours?”

She smiled, the slick black lips curving as a canine peeked out. “Hey Trevor. My name is Braila.”

Notes:

Badly-Chapter 45

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter starts with Trevor’s Braila experience. Solely the build up to what happened, no descriptions of actual non-con but lots of dread. There is immediate comfort after in the present-day conversation with Sypha.

Please see the end note for a short, sanitized chapter summary if you are at all concerned about reading this chapter. 🙏🏻

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

--A few years ago--

“Hey! Trevor! Sweetie!” the leggy redhead waved at him excitedly across the room and he gratefully grinned. His nerves calmed slightly and he scooted across the change room to Greg.

“You assigned to the afterparty for Sonic Kitten?” Trevor asked him eagerly.

“Yep, sure am! Kevin is sending everyone he can--it’s supposed to be huge and I heard they gave him a blank check because the celebs are coming.” Greg pulled off his jeans and grabbed his ‘leather costume’ as he called it, out of the locker. “They want a splash for the papers."

“Thank fuck,” Trevor said, stomach settling a little more. “I’ve only done one other like this, the Stilton last month? It was,” his breath hitched, “a little much.”

He’d been propositioned three times that night and while the money was incredibly tempting, Trevor had his pride. He had no issue with sex work but it was a line he wasn’t prepared to cross himself.

Greg looked up sympathetically. “Stick close to me, Trevor, it’ll be okay. Whatever you do, do not drink or eat anything you don’t get yourself from Jeff, okay? If I am with a client, you stick with him.”

“Jeff will be there?” Trevor asked, unaware of how painfully innocent he was in that moment. Greg smiled gently. “Yep, big lug’s got my back, as always. And he’ll have yours too, okay?

“Thank you so much Greg, really, I couldn’t do this without you,” Trevor said sincerely and the redhead waved that away.

“You are fine, bro, and speaking of fine, let’s get you glammed.”

Trevor sighed and opened his duffel. “Do you think it’ll be heels again tonight?” he asked. He could move in them no problem but fuck if his feet didn’t scream by the end of the night.

“Nope, you are in luck, it’s a metal band. We are gonna have you looking like old-school Davy Havok and ooooh, that reminds me, I have some blue glitter eyelashes that will look killer on you!”

Forty minutes later, Trevor accepted the glass of juice from Jeff and bellowed his thanks over the volume of the crowd. Jeff said something back and he missed it. “What?” he asked the big man and Jeff leaned in.

“Happy Birthday!!” he heard over the music and Trevor jerked in surprise. “Greg told me!”

It was a big secret and for a moment Trevor was horrified. Greg had vouched that he was 21 with Kevin since he didn’t have any papers. In reality, he’d been 17 until today. Today was his 18th birthday. 

Trevor had always looked older than he was and the last year he’d filled out and grown a moustache. No one had looked twice. “Don’t worry; between us!” Jeff yelled and Trevor nodded. “Have fun!” Jeff told him and moved off to deliver some drinks.

Kevin’s instructions had been simple. Party and mingle. Anything else beyond that was of your own volition but you couldn’t do it in front of the cameras and if you got busted, you were on your own. It worked for Trevor. He would make $200 tonight just for looking pretty and dancing. 

$200 would pay for his room for the next two weeks and some beans and bread. If he was really careful he could give Greg $20 for watching his back. His friend always refused but Trevor would stash it in the pocket of some clothing he borrowed or Greg’s make up kit. He owed his friend and he always paid his debts.

He carefully nursed his juice. Jeff had garnished it to look like a mixed drink because drinking was part of the gig. 

That had been one of the first things Greg taught him. Never drink on the job. You lost the ability to sense danger and you risked getting roofied. When Jeff or Greg wasn’t there, Trevor didn’t drink anything unless it came in a sealed bottle. 

This was not a lifestyle for Trevor. He just wanted to do this long enough to finish the program at the library, get his highschool diploma and earn enough money to get his art degree. 

The great thing about being an escort was that he could choose his hours and he only took three to four events a week, max. He needed his days for the program and most of these gigs were only 4-6 hours, earning three times what he could bagging groceries. 

With his lack of education and his financial needs, there was no question but this was his best option. 

The truth was, if Trevor had been willing to have sex, he could have worked three nights a month and made triple what he made now. But he wasn’t. Perhaps it was foolish but he wanted his first time to be with someone he liked and felt something for. At his heart, Trevor was a romantic, even if he didn’t know it.

He was careful not to venture upstairs. Experience told him that was where the heavy drugs and sex was happening. Not that there weren't drugs down here. He could smell the pot and if you looked closely, the pills were flowing freely. 

Greg and Jeff were both within view at any given time. Greg was clearly flirting with an extremely drunk older man who would definitely lose his wallet tonight. Jeff was serving drinks as fast as he could.

A slickly attractive man in his forties tapped him on his shoulder and reached to shake Trevor’s hand. In his palm was a carefully folded bill and a small baggie with two pills. When Trevor eased back the man looked meaningfully at the stairs.

Trevor smiled easily and leaned in as though to share a secret. Instead, he passed the small offering back and shook his head gently. The man smiled regretfully and moved off. 

When a pair of women approached him and reached out to shake his hand, Trevor simply shook his head. He needed to avoid repeating this scene multiple times and do his job. Mingling wasn’t going to work without having to continue to refuse the drugs and the sex.

The easiest thing for him to do was to dance, and Trevor loved to dance. The latest Sonic Kitten album pulsed out of the speakers and the heavy beat was easy to grind to. He found himself sandwiched between a couple almost immediately.

The man was reasonably respectful, keeping his hands above the belt but the woman was handsy as fuck. Twice Trevor had to grab her hands away from his dick and just as he was about to lose his temper, another woman pushed her away and glared fiercely.

His rescuer was young, only a few years older than him. She had wavy black hair, a septum piercing and a double spiked eyebrow ring. Her leather was real; skintight pants that laced up the sides, a short jacket studded with spikes, and a black lace corset that framed stunning, creamy skin. Black leather platform boots and striking goth make-up, complete with maroon claws, finished her look.

She looked him in the eyes, piercing blue that seemed to glitter in the strobe lights and then pointed to the patio. He nodded and she took his hand, leading him through the crowd, cutting through the throng around the pool and finally finding a niche in the elaborate gardens that didn’t have someone blowing someone else.

The music had cut down significantly. He’d had the time to admire her ass in those pants and smell the dark, smoky perfume she was wearing. Her skin was cool and smooth and he liked the prickle of her nails on the palm of his hand.

“Thank you,” he told her as she turned. “I appreciate you stepping in with that chick.”

“Hey, no worries,” she laughed and her voice was low and sexy. “I figured you could use a hand and not the one on your cock.”

He laughed, appreciating her candid honesty and clever wit. “Absolutely, that was not the hand I was looking for.”

“What kind of hand are you looking for?” she asked with a teasing smile and Trevor grinned. 

“I’ll know her when I see her,” he said smoothly and she arched her brow, lighting a cigarette. Leaning against the railing she rolled her shoulders, her body a long line of curves in a tall but delicate package. His interest stirred.

“And what do you see?” she asked him, blowing out smoke into the night air.

“Someone I would be interested in getting to know better?” he said. “My name is Trevor, what’s yours?”

She smiled, the slick black lips curving as a canine peeked out. “Hey Trevor. My name is Braila.”

---

“Did you see where Trevor went?” Greg asked Jeff an hour later. His boyfriend laughed and pointed toward the gardens.

“He and some young thing went out that way, she was smoking hot, and our boy was definitely interested.”

Greg grinned. “Really? That’s awesome! He is way too serious, he needs a girl in his life. Maybe she’ll give him a sexy birthday present, wouldn’t that be great?”

He didn’t think about it again for almost two hours and then he got the text. “Headed hom. Dee you leter.” Greg frowned. That wasn’t like Trevor at all. Leaving early meant he wouldn’t get paid the full amount.

“Sorry, bathroom!” he yelled at the man he was flirting with and his catch gave him puppy eyes, motioning he would come with. Greg shook his head and accepted that he’d probably lose this one but whatever. He scanned the crowd and located Jeff. He headed through the crush to his lover.

Just as he reached Jeff and tapped his shoulder, his phone buzzed again. “Had tto mxch drinl, frend takking me him. Mabe stahiying?” Alarm cut through cleanly. Not a chance would Trevor ever have had a drink here. Would he?

But even if he had, he clearly couldn’t consent to whomever was ‘mabe stahiying.’ Besides that, he would never take anyone home from a party. He shared an apartment with three other escorts and it was a solid rule between all of them. No fucking in the apartment.

 Something was really wrong and everything in him screamed to find Trevor. “Jeff! Jeff!” He bellowed at his partner and he frantically patted his arm. “Have you seen Trevor?”

“Yeah!” Jeff grinned and Greg felt hopeful. “Don’t worry, I’ve kept an eye out! He was with that girl and they were dancing. Looked intense.”

Greg scanned the dance floor and didn’t see Trevor. He turned back. “Where? When?”

“I dunno, like thirty minutes ago?” Jeff was starting to look around himself.

“Was Trevor drunk?” Greg asked, thinking about the texts.

Jeff frowned, “No, neither of them were the last time I saw them. And I wasn’t serving them alcohol.”

A sick bile rose in Greg’s throat. “Jeff, think hard, did she handle his drink?”

Dawning horror crossed his boyfriend’s face and Greg’s heart crumpled like a tin can in the jaws of a great white shark. “Oh my God Greg, I gave the last one to her to take back to him, he waved at me so I would know it was okay. But like, she wouldn’t do anything, she was a little thing, she liked him, she…” but Greg wasn’t listening.

He was calling Trevor; hand over his ear, phone pressed to his other ear like the voice of God was telling him the meaning of life. The phone rang. 

And rang.

And rang.

----

“Braila,” Sypha asked. “That’s the other name for Carmilla, right?”

Trevor’s stomach jangled like a loose ball bearing in the trunk of a car. “That’s right. Braila is the name I know her by. Well, I should say I knew her by. I mean, I don’t really know her, I...encountered her, some years back.”

Sypha searched his face and he couldn’t meet her eyes. He tried, but shame was a charcoal stick pressed deeply into his skin and grinding thick lines of mortification across him. 

Better to get this over with right away, he thought and kept talking. 

“I met her at a party. I um, I was paid to be there. To look good and look like I was happy to be there.”

Sypha’s breath changed slightly and her hand on his hand trembled. Ah fuck, he thought unhappily. “It’s not as bad as it sounds... I never hooked up or did drugs and I was careful.” Not careful enough though, were you? He thought.

Tiny fragments of panic were floating in his throat and they were piling up the longer Sypha was quiet. He tried to swallow past them but they seemed to press together like clay and make a wet, sticky ball that just moved more firmly into his windpipe.

“I don’t actually know what she gave me, but I stayed conscious.” The haze of the lights blurred in neon and his feeling of happily floating came back like a painful peeling of a protective skin that was being flayed off.

“She took me back to her place and asked me if I wanted something to drink. Up until that point, I still felt okay, just buzzed but then…” 

But then.

Are you scared?” she asked him, cupping her chin with one hand, her other mimicking the movement under her elbow. 

He couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak, and the helplessness crushed him with fear. Pinpoints of light danced over his eyes as his vision narrowed and tears streamed down his face.

“Trevor!” Sypha’s voice brought him back into skin that crawled and shuddered, and he realized he was sobbing wildly. She was cradling him tightly and rocking him in the Tepes’ limousine. 

Braila was not here, this was not happening now. Humiliation burned. “I-Sypha, I’m sorry, I-.”

“Shhh, no more Trevor, no more. I understand and I love you. I love you, do you hear me?” She kissed his hair and stroked his back. “You don’t need to tell me, I understand.”

“I don’t want any more secrets, Sypha, you deserve to know.” He croaked it out. “I’m not hiding anything else from you.”

“Trevor, do you want to tell me this? Tell me the truth.”

Not in a million years, he thought and just shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I should, I know-.”

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit.” Her tone was gentle but firm. “There is no ‘should’ here. I don’t ‘deserve’ to know this, anymore than you deserved what happened. You’ve told me enough so that I can understand and I am humbled by your honesty. You don’t have to tell me anything else about it unless you want to.”

Her words tumbled through him, quiet, cool soothings to inflamed grief and fury. “I couldn’t let her hurt him, Sypha. I think I knew in my subconscious? But I didn’t know until she was talking to me out on the balcony. She looked really different when I, when she…” he exhaled. “When it happened.”

“Have I told you how incredible I find your protectiveness?” she asked him, still stroking his back in pacifying sweeps, her other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him snug to her body. Her warmth and scent was a comfort he couldn’t express enough gratitude for. 

“You are so giving, so loving,” she said. “It’s beautiful; you are beautiful.”

How can you think that? He wondered. I lied to you, I just told you that Braila… his brain couldn’t give the word to the experience and he hurried on. I’m anything but beautiful.

“And you’d even face down something so painful, just to try to give me what you think I need. But you made a mistake here, Trevor.”

His hysterical panting had slowed, but hitched again at her last sentence. The dread pushed out his words in a pulverized crush. “I know, I’m sorry, I’ve made so many, and if-.”

“No, love, no.” She was peaceful as she nuzzled into him. “Your mistake was in wanting to give too much. Your mistake was not caring what it might cost you to give it.”

I don’t understand, he thought but she was already telling him.

“My love for you is not conditional on what you give me, Trevor. You don’t have to sacrifice your calm and your well-being for us to be together and to be happy.”

The spring of panic and certainty of her rejection that had been pulled far out of place, snapped back in a hard jolt of relief. She doesn’t blame me. She is not ashamed of me. She is not asking me for the details.

He clutched her, the tears that just wouldn’t stop coming today leaving little signs of grief across her blouse. Something rotting inside of his skin for longer than he could remember detached and rolled away. What was left was raw and ached but it felt cleaner.

“All I ever ask is the truth, but that doesn’t mean it has to be the version that destroys you. All you needed to say is that Carmilla or Braila,” she spat the names like they were excavated bones, “had really hurt you. The specifics are yours alone to decide on sharing.”

Face buried in her shoulder, he spoke. “I don’t know if I ever could, Sypha. I mean, I was prepared to tonight, well, I thought I was prepared. I-I thought it was over, I thought… it was the worst night of my life,” he whispered. “And that’s saying something.”

“It is over in the sense that she will never hurt you again. Did you ever talk to anyone about it, get some help?” She rocked him gently, easing him more fully onto her even as she held him tight.

Did I ever do anything to make it right? He thought and the shame pulled its covers over his head again. “No, I never told anyone. She--no one would have believed me. And she,” he closed his eyes. “She gave me money, Sypha. Before she told me to get out. I’m not even sure she didn’t really believe I wasn’t, uh, for sale.”

“Trevor, I don’t care if she gave you a million dollars, you met at a gangbang and she took you home naked. You didn’t consent and she knew it. That’s all that matters.”

Is it? He wondered and took a deep breath. Sypha would not say it, if she didn’t mean it. “No, she knew I didn’t consent.” He shuddered. “Honestly? I don’t think she would have been interested if I had.”

“I’ll be honest Trevor, I want to kill her,” Sypha said vehemently. “What a sick, twisted, horrible, monstrous bitch.” He heard it in her voice, the sorrowful agony and the fury. “I wish I’d said yes to the walking stick Saint tried to get me to take tonight. I’d have caned her ass.”

Trevor shook his head. “Okay, a baseball bat and two minutes alone?” she asked fiercely. He could feel her vibrate with anger.

His snort was watery but with genuine humor in it. “Yeah, no thanks because I am not leaving you alone with her for any length of time, and I never want to see her again.”

“You will never be alone with her again and you never have to see her again,” Sypha said in a fierce hiss. “I’ll kill her if she even looks at you.”

They lapsed into silence and he listened to her breathe. The steady beat of her heart was like falling cherry blossoms when the wind swept through a grove. She loves me enough to want to protect me, he thought. She loves me enough to forgive me for lying and for this ugly history.

“I was serious about doing anything for you,” he said. “If you ever change your mind and you need to know-.”

“No.” She said firmly. “If I ever say that, take me to the doctor because I’ve had a stroke.”

He tried again. “Sypha, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Trevor. As I said, if you want to tell me, that is one thing but I don’t believe that you have to strip yourself bare and walk through hell for me. My love doesn’t require sacrifice and it never will. That’s not love, that’s torture.”

“How do I deserve you?” he asked her, reverent and humbled. She squeezed him tight for a moment before ducking her head to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“There is no more deserving person in the world and believe me, I feel the same way about you. You are an incredible man and I am so, so blessed to have your love.”

---

It wasn’t working. Neither Adrian nor Lisa seemed to see Trevor’s lying as the issue it was. Nevermind that it actually was a fairly huge lie, Vlad needed it to plant doubts. But neither one of them seemed willing to entertain it as such.

Even if I didn’t need it as a reason to cool ties with Trevor, I saw Sypha’s face. She was devastated. Vlad narrowed his eyes. No one hurt his girl.

Sypha was as dear to him as his own son. She was pure sunshine and strength and anyone that would lie to her, didn’t deserve her. Yes, he liked Belmont and felt badly for everything that had happened to him, but Vlad Dracula loved Sypha. 

And really, why would he keep this from her? Adrian, he might have understood but from a woman who clearly adored him? It didn’t make sense and made him wonder what else Trevor was keeping from people. 

For the third time this evening he wished he’d asked the investigators to look into Trevor’s personal life more and not just whether he’d delved into the deaths of his parents. There were so many things I would have done differently, he thought and shook it off. 

What will you do now? He asked himself instead.

It sounded like Trevor had made his way, but not without struggle. As much as he would like to offer the young man friendship and connection, it was clear that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even what Trevor really needed. 

What Lord Tepes could offer him was the thing that everyone needed and usually what people asked him for. Money. 

He thought about Trevor’s tuition, the cost of living and the last two contracts with the Belmonts. It would be eight figures if he gave it all and might be tricky to keep such a large transfer from Lisa.

Especially if this Agent Isaac is looking at me at all, the timing would be terrible, he reflected.

That would be a problem either way actually. He couldn’t be seen giving Belmont any money. It would raise questions, especially if he succeeded in severing the connection between Sypha and Trevor.

I could run it through Saint Germaine, he thought. It wouldn’t be the first time Vlad had transferred money to Saint, let him shuffle it into Germaine’s business, and then transfer it back out to Tepes. 

The two men weren’t quite as close as they’d once been, but were the kind of friends that stayed connected no matter what. It would be enough that I would have to do it in lumps and over a matter of years, he thought.

Vlad frowned. He didn’t want to be connected to Trevor that long. It spread out the deception to Lisa and kept Vlad financially indebted. Better to cut the amount down and give it all up front. 

It was rare, but he’d transferred similar amounts to Saint in the past. Usually the purchases would make headlines though, he thought. How would I explain it if anyone asked?

That was a real problem and he didn’t have an answer to it. There was also the chance that Trevor would get greedy and try for more. Sometimes money changed people. It hadn’t changed Belmont’s parents, but it had changed the Belmont family. 

Who could say? It sounded like the boy had gone through a lot and lived quite simply. Even just a couple million would set him up for life if he was smart about it. He sent a text to Germaine to see if he could call him later tonight and looked out the window at the countryside.

Maybe it was the rain, pattering down the windows, or the soft murmur of his son and wife talking about his birthday plans, but Vlad fell into the memory before he realized it.

“Lady Tepes,” Penelope Belmont smiled engagingly. “So lovely to meet you!”

“Please, call me Betta,” the small brunette said sweetly and looked at him. “My husband speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh, Betta, that is so nice, thank you.” Her blue eyes crinkled pleasantly. “Please call me Penelope.”

“Honey, could you excuse Vlad Dracula and I for a moment?” Dominic asked, hand on his wife’s shoulder. His dimple offered a tiny, second grin to Penelope and she smiled back, putting her hand over his. Their love for each other both pleased Vlad and nettled him. An equal partner was a gift he would never have.

“Of course, why don’t you walk in the garden?” she offered before turning back to Betta. “Would you like to see the gallery? We have a lovely display of O’Keefe’s right now.”

Betta looked at him again and Vlad felt the tiniest edge of temper. Her reliance on his approval had once made him feel powerful. Now it made him resentful. “Whatever you’d like,” he told her shortly. “I’ll be back soon.”

Dominic led him out to the gardens behind the gallery, filled with sculptures, artful clusters of landscape and stone benches for viewing. “I wanted to ask you something,” the younger man said and Vlad nodded.

“You mentioned, the last time we spoke, how you would do anything to get Mathias’ painting back, yes?” Dominic asked him casually, hands in his pockets.

Vlad’s temper flared, still wounded from the court’s rejection. “Yes. It belongs to the Tepes family, I don’t give a good fuck what-.”

Dominic held up his hand. “I just want to know how committed, ‘anything,’ really is.”

Awareness prickled over Vlad and he stopped walking. “What are you asking me?” he said finally, trepidation tapping a toe alongside hope.

“What if, hypothetically that is, I might be able to get it back for you.”

Disappointment was another spoonful of bitterness in Vlad Dracula’s mouth. He shook his head. “No, it’s not possible. They won’t sell. It’s not even documented as existing so there isn’t anything that can be done.”

Dominic smiled. “That is actually the good part, Vlad. It isn’t even documented as existing. That means no authentication, no paperwork and no police if, say, something irregular were to happen.”

Lord Tepes stared at him, heart beating wildly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Look,” Belmont said, charming face falling into serious lines. “I wish I could tell you that this was the first time I’ve seen something like this happen. I can’t. It’s wrong and it grinds dirt into a wound that no family should ever have suffered. Penelope and I, well, we like to help when we can. But it’s expensive and it’s dangerous. The risk to everyone is enormous.” 

He looked right at Vlad. “So if you are serious, we can help you but I will warn you now, you can never publicly reclaim the art. It would be closure of a private nature only.”

This could be a trap, it could be a political trick, it could… He looked at Dominic. “How can I trust your intentions here?”

“We are out here in the gardens and I am willing to strip if you want to see if I am wearing a wire.” Dominic grinned. “That’s why I am asking, not Penelope.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Vlad laughed. Excitement was a heady froth in his belly and the possibility of what was being offered was kindling a hope that threatened to overtake his normal caution.

“I have some terms about how we will do this,” Vlad said.

“Absolutely,” Dominic said easily. “We will need to be very clear about involvement here.”

A thought struck him, so huge and exciting that he actually gasped. “Could we...is it possible to get them all back?”

Dominic’s shock was obvious and Vlad was afraid he pushed too hard. The gallery owner looked thoughtful. “We’ve never tried something so ambitious. I would have to talk to Penelope and my brother.”

It was Vlad’s turn to be shocked. “Your brother is in on this?”

Dominic grinned. “You could say it was a family affair.”

Lord Tepes felt the helpless anger over the situation fall away and in its place was a rising determination. “Dominic, I think this is the start of an marvelous partnership.”

“Father? Father?” Adrian’s voice called him back into the present like a gentle spring breeze.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” Vlad asked him, looking at the faintly concerned face of his child. He looks so much like his mother, Vlad thought wistfully. Such a beautiful boy.

“I was asking if you would be available? Week after next? For a birthday supper?” 

“I would have to check with Andrei,” he said automatically and caught the faint disappointment. He sought to ease it. “But I certainly hope so. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve grown up.”

I really can’t, he thought again, watching the slow smile break out over the painter’s face. You’re a man now, with a man’s responsibilities. 

He thought again of the wistful love in Adrian’s kiss on Sypha’s forehead. Whatever happened, he needed to make sure that Trevor didn’t get in between them more than he already had. It wasn’t the Belmont’s fault, but it was just one more mark against him.

“Vlad, where are you?” Lisa said teasingly. “You are dreaming of something.” She stroked two slender fingers through his hair and tucked them behind his ear. 

Fierce love gripped him as he looked at her. Beautiful, wise and self-possessed, her smile was kind and her eyes twinkled. She was everything to him. Vlad leaned in and murmured, “It’s only ever you.” The bemused twist of her lips was endearing and he nuzzled her cheek.

“Mmmm, deflection I see,” she said lightly and laughed as he cupped her face. As his lips found hers, he heard an echo from the past and a chilling truth from the grave.

We will need to be very clear about involvement here.
----

Sometimes I feel I've got to
Run away I've got to
Get away
From the pain you drive into the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light
For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night
Once I ran to you (I ran)
Now, I'll run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Oh, tainted love

-"Tainted Love," Soft Cell

Notes:

CHAPTER SUMMARY SPOILER: Flashback to Trevor and his friend Greg, both of whom work as escorts/party attendees. We find out that Trevor is a virgin and is doing this work to make money for college and finishing his highschool degree in the daytime. It is his 18th birthday today and he is going to an album drop party.

Trevor meets Braila (Carmilla) at the party and through Greg’s POV we realize that Trevor’s been drugged and is leaving with her. Greg is unable to contact him via phone to determine if he is okay.

Present day conversation with Sypha, she tells him that he doesn’t need to tell her more than he is comfortable with and she understands that Carmilla/Braila did something truly horrific to him. He doesn't need to tell her more than he can handle. Trevor never wants to see Carmilla again and Sypha tells him he doesn’t have to.

Vlad is thinking about offering Trevor money and wonders how he would do it. He remembers Dominic Belmont approaching him about retrieving Mathias’ painting. Their conversation makes it clear that this was not the first time the Belmonts have done this before and involves their extended family. Vlad tentatively agrees, remarking that this would be the start of a great partnership. The chapter closes with a premonition on Vlad’s part about involvement--although whose and what the context is, is unclear.
---
*high pitched screaming* I have been WAITING to get to these plot points and I am so so so excited to finally be dropping them now and fleshing them out in the upcoming chapters! I hope you're enjoying the reveals! Take care and be safe! 🌞
---
Photo: Dylan Rieder, hands and background - Pexels

Chapter 46: It's where I want to be

Summary:

Vlad touched one of the dresses, a golden column with a mermaid skirt and remembered how resplendent she looked at the state dinner, flawless skin and dripping sapphires.

Knowing she wore garters and nothing else under it as he watched her mingle with the crowd. Seeing her casually make her way across the ballroom floor and subtly slip out. Finding her in the meeting room upstairs, the dress on the floor, and her long, graceful form laid out like the most erotic centrepiece possible. 

He would never forget what she looked like; a reclining goddess awaiting spring. The golden waves of her hair spilling over the dark wood, the ocean blue sapphires at her throat and ears and pouring from her eyes, silk navy garterbelt and nude stockings adorning miles of legs that lead to blue satin stilettos.

When he’d locked the door she’d turned to him and smiled. “I call this meeting to order,” she’d murmured.

Notes:

It Started Out Badly-Chapter 46

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

One look at Trevor and Adrian knew that it was bad. Sypha held his arm protectively with both hands. Trevor’s suit was rumpled, hair unruly like he’d slept on it, eyes red and rimmed with black from his running mascara. 

He’s cried so much today, the painter thought, the guilt a quivering tower of poorly stacked books. 

Sypha had obviously tried to clean him up but the man was drained, anyone could see it. I’m so sorry, the painter said with his eyes, his hands, his heart as he looked at the sculptor. Like a crumpled birthday card in a puddle, Trevor’s small smile was a pitiful thing trying, and failing, to offer comfort. 

“I confess I am actually a little tired,” Lisa said from behind Adrian. “Would it be terribly rude of me to retire early?”

Bless you mother, the blonde thought gratefully. Sypha’s smile was apologetic.

“Actually, we are too. It’s been a long week, and I think we,” she nodded to Trevor, “need some time to unwind and a solid sleep.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Lisa said. “We can have breakfast tomorrow and plan the day then.” She nodded at both of them and Sypha put out one hand to squeeze hers.

It was a surprise and poignantly beautiful when Trevor stepped forward, both hands extended, and took his mother's other hand. The brunette placed his other on top of their clasped palms. For a brief moment they looked like a Renaissance painting of two angels conferring. 

“Thank you, Lisa, for everything tonight," Trevor said. "I apologize that the evening didn’t go as planned but I look forward to spending time with you tomorrow when I’m a little more composed.”

Lisa smiled. “May I offer you a hug, Trevor?” she asked him. “Only if it would help.” Adrian recognized the exhaustion and comfort in the sculptor’s sigh. It was the sound of someone who understood home was being offered and he was finally safe. 

At least he doesn’t hold my mistake against her, the blonde thought. 

Trevor’s hug was gently hesitant, as if he expected Lady Tepes might shatter under his arms. Watching them, Adrian’s heart rose into the sky like a fragile balloon released with a prayer. 

This is what could be possible, he told himself. This acceptance, this peace, this love. It’s all waiting here between us. I just have to figure out how to have Father understand and...

Lisa hugged the sculptor fiercely, a full body embrace of support and affection. She must have said something to him because Trevor nodded quickly and sniffed. “Thank you, really,” he said quietly as he stepped back. Vlad moved forward, putting an arm around Lisa and putting out a hand to Trevor.

The sculptor took it and the men shook hands. It was easy, respectful and Adrian’s anxiety lessened slightly. “It’s good to have you here, Trevor. Please get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Of course, have a good evening sir,” Trevor smiled and Sypha blew Vlad a kiss. Lord Tepes grinned at her and wished her good night. The gentlest motion led Trevor up the stairs and Adrian watched their forms together, the clasp of hands a promise of support. He couldn’t go with them yet and watching them leave was like watching his heart crawl away.

When his parents turned to him, Adrian forced a rueful smile. “Well, it’s been an eventful day, hasn’t it?” he asked serenely.

“It certainly has,” his mother said lightly and opened her arms to him. “It’s so lovely to have you home and to meet Trevor and have Sypha here. I love when I can have the house full of my family.”

Holding his mother was a moment of sanity and safety and a brief respite from being an adult. It was a reminder of how much love he had always been given. He felt a small measure of calm return. It was not lost on him how she included Trevor in her statement of family and he gave her an extra squeeze. He knew she meant it, just as he knew she was sowing the seeds of Trevor as family for his father.

“Get some rest, alright?” she told him and he nodded. 

She turned to Vlad, who looked at Adrian. “Come on, darling,” she said to him and he shook his head.

“Adrian and I need to talk,” he said simply.

The painter stiffened. I don’t want to talk, I want to follow my lovers to bed. I want to hold Trevor and Sypha while I apologize to them both. I want to find out what the hell happened. He’d been planning on doing just that as soon as it was appropriate to retire.

“Could it wait until morning, Father?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, it can’t,” Vlad Dracula answered him. Lisa frowned.

“Is this something I should be present for? I don’t recall anything of pressing importance?” Adrian knew she was trying to buy him a reprieve and at least some warning of the topic his father wished to discuss.

“No, I simply want to talk about Agent Isaac to ensure that all the eventualities have been covered. Go to sleep love, I will let you know if anything important needs addressing in the morning.”

Lisa’s eyes flicked to the blonde and Adrian nodded slightly. “Alright you two. At least grab dessert from Louis, he’ll be crestfallen that no one had some.” She looked at Vlad. “Don’t keep him too long; our son looks tired, love.”

She leaned up on her tip-toes for a kiss. Vlad stroked over her back, bringing her close and wrapping his arms around her. Their embrace was the simple, comfortable motion of two people who knew everything about each other and together, had bloomed each flower on the tree of their entwined hearts.

Adrian felt a twinge of jealousy. How easy it was for them to be accepted as a couple. There was no denying, no lying, and no question to anyone how much they loved each other. They could simply be.

I want this so badly and I will never have it. It was like a decaying root inside a tooth that looked whole on the outside. Inside, it throbbed with painful intensity.

Lord Tepes smiled and released his wife, watching her start up the stairs before turning to his son. “Want dessert by the fire or at the table?”

“How about in the gaming room? We could do darts with dessert then.” And you could hopefully be distracted enough to let me escape after a couple of games, he finished silently.

It was unfair, but he resented this right now. It was completely rational for Vlad to wish to discuss this when everyone was off doing their own thing. The problem was, Adrian wanted to be too. He wanted the privacy of his suite, the warmth of the trio, and the precious few hours when he didn't need to pretend.

They made their way to the gaming room, meeting Sergei along the way and placing their dessert order. In no time, the icewine, whipped coconut mousse with brûlée cream and game of darts were well underway. 

“What do you know about Carmilla Styria?” Vlad asked him as Adrian lined up a shot.

It caught him off guard and Adrian’s dart barely stayed on the wheel. “I’m sorry?”

“The woman who was overly familiar with you, what do you know about her?” Vlad asked, clucking at the poor shot.

“Other than she’s repulsive? She’s technically an artist, although I would use that term loosely. She’s been around--,” his father was shaking his head and Adrian trailed off.

“No, I’m sorry, I meant with Trevor. What do you know about her with him?” Vlad asked and Adrian understood.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you are wondering how they know each other? They have an art opening together at the Ainav this coming Friday.”

“Have they met before?” Vlad asked, taking a sip of his icewine.

“No, I don’t think so,” Adrian thought back. “He said he’d never seen her art and a showing would be the only situation I could imagine him seeing it. Her work would not appeal to him.”

Vlad looked contemplative. “Do you know why he would suggest they had history together?”

Adrian’s focus sharpened and he looked at his father. “What gave you that impression?”

Vlad shrugged, lining his shot up carefully before loosing the dart. It sank into the ring with a solid thwack. “I asked him who hurt him; his split lip, you know.” Adrian nodded. 

“And he said he could explain the history,” Vlad continued. “Then Julius clarified that I was asking about who hit him and that wasn’t her. So it made me wonder what he thought I was referring to.” Vlad took a spoonful of his mousse and gestured to the board. “I was just curious how she had hurt him.”

The look on Julius’ face came swimming back to him, the urgency, the concern. Adrian was certain that the security guard had been trying to warn him of something. ‘But I knew her as Braila.’ Trevor’s face and tone suggested that meant something; something important. 

What had he said to Julius? ‘No, no you will not tell him. That is not yours to tell.’  Trevor had been so angry, so wounded when he said that and Julius had been clearly uncomfortable. Like whatever ‘that’ was, was a painful or shameful thing. Like Julius knew it would be something that would hurt me to hear. But what would hurt Trevor and me at t--.

No. Oh no.

“Adrian? It’s your turn.” Vlad turned to him casually and glanced up. He stopped and his eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? You look like someone died.”

Someone would, Adrian thought as his fury erupted with the intensity of a feral wolf defending its den. He shook his head, blinded to anything but the horrible image that came to him of Trevor's stricken face in the limo as he told Sypha he didn't 'want to make this a thing.'

“I think that whatever is between Carmilla and Trevor,” he hissed. “It’s his business and not yours.” It was rude, there was no question. It was abrupt and disrespectful and completely out of context. He couldn’t help it. 

‘My first time was not pretty.’ Trevor’s words stepped into the shoes of his own experience. Adrian could smell her again and feel the rip of her nails on his palms. 'I was left with some really ugly feelings about it and a healthy dose of fear.’ The press of Carmilla's body into his own like she would devour his identity with hers. The forced kiss on his cheek, seared into his skin like a brand.

Trevor’s gentle insistence of ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ impaled him with fear. What if he was so afraid of hurting me that way because that's how she hurt him? If Carmilla did this; if she…  He realized he was clenching one hand in a fist with the other on top, practically clawing the fisted hand. Trevor’s fisted hand, holding the knife that… 

I will fucking destroy her, he thought as 'I want you to scream my name. Not scream ‘stop that hurts,' echoed over the ugly cauldron of acidic emotion. I will use everything in my power to completely  destroy her. I don't care what it takes, what I have to pay or what name I have to use, I will-!

“Excuse me?” Vlad had stilled, thunderous brow arched in surprise and warning. “Am I missing something here?”

Adrian struggled with the hideously powerful protectiveness and nasty temper. It was only years of forcing himself to hide behind a neutral mask as a matter of survival that saved him a confrontation that would only make things worse. “I’m sorry about how disrespectfully that came out.”

Vlad’s brow smoothed but he remained intensely focussed on his son. “Thank you. I'm going to chalk that up to the stress of the evening. Now, you thought of something. What was it?”

Careful now, so careful, Adrian thought and nodded. “I recall him saying something about someone who broke his heart at one point but I don’t know the context. He was young.” 

The lie burned, hideously profane in his throat, “I think it was a first love kind of thing, which would explain the depth of his hurt, wouldn’t it?” He looked thoughtful and then snapped his fingers in faux surprise. “Yes, I am sure of it now actually, it’s the name. She lied to him about who she was, I believe.”

Vlad shook his head. “And yet he did the same thing to poor Sypha.” He turned for his glass and Adrian used the opportunity to roll his shoulders to release some tension. “Not very perceptive, is he?” his father stated with displeasure.

The bitter retort struggled to die on his tongue and Adrian reached for his icewine. Putting something in his mouth seemed smart. After all, his lie had made his father think such a thing.

“Alright, well that mystery solved, what about Agent Isaac? Tell me precisely how the confrontation went, as close to the exact words as you can, please.”

It took longer than he wanted to explain it and the strain of trying to downplay the incident with carefully chosen words exhausted him. His father had several pointed questions about Isaac’s suggestions about why Vlad would be in league with the Belmonts.

It was fortunate that much of what Vlad asked he could legitimately say he did not know. So by the time his father asked him if he knew why the agent thought that Tepes money was involved he could lie without issue.

Neither Vlad or Lisa knew about the Tepes scholarship. One of the conditions of the scholarship was that it was private. The applications, the selection, the disbursement--it was all done very quietly and anonymously. It had been easy enough to piggyback on the extensive agreements about security, media and reimbursement to the school and tuck this in after the fact.

The truth was he wasn’t sure how his parents would react to the issue but he didn’t want to discuss it. The one time Vlad asked him about the singular large transfers that happened once or twice a year, he’d simply said that he was investing it. Which was mostly true. He invested it in fellow students.

Otherwise he tried not to touch the account for himself. He didn’t even carry the access card for it in his wallet, which is why his mother ended up buying Trevor’s Wise pieces for him. Still, he hated the lie, every time. This was no different.

“Do you have his business card?” Vlad asked and Adrian shook his head.

“Julius has it, actually,” the blonde said. “And to be clear, I only said I’d consider calling him as a means of breaking up the incident.” Or if I had further information to provide, he finished silently. It was a moot point. The conversation with Trevor by the lake had only solidified his certainty that Vlad hadn’t been involved. It simply didn’t make sense.

His father nodded, unconcerned. There was no question between the two men that you did and said whatever was needed to extract yourself from such a public confrontation.

“I think I know how Isaac tied the Tepes and Belmont together,” Lord Tepes said calmly. Adrian’s heart beat stumbled like a snowshoe hare losing its footing to the jaws of a wolf, but he simply raised a brow.

“The Wise pieces Lisa purchased. The money would be a large chunk for Belmont if he is as impoverished as he says he is. If they were watching his account it would be easy enough to trace it back to your mother and I. From there, he would just run our account number against the Belmonts’ bank records and the payments for the RRAG portraits would come right up.”

Adrian nodded eagerly. Of course, you don’t know that Isaac and Godbrand told Trevor that they saw the scholarship money first, but we don’t need to discuss that, he thought. “Makes a lot of sense, actually,” he said instead.

“It’s groundless speculation on his part, but as you know, I still need to let Sala know as a precaution,” Vlad scooped the last spoonful of his mousse and smiled.

Adrian looked at his father and wished he could be half as composed. He admired the pride, confidence and assurance that Vlad seemed to have in spades. There was not one time he’d ever seen his father lose face publicly and, although people would complain about some of his stances, he was respected.

It was in no small part to Vlad’s cautious planning and this was one such instance. It would likely go nowhere but should Isaac overstep or the media get wind of his inquiries, everything would be primed for a swift and effective response.

Perhaps it was because Carmilla was still haunting the back of his mind. Maybe it was because he needed to protect Trevor in some tangible way. But most likely it was because his father was a brilliant tactician. Whatever the reason, Adrian asked him.

“The show that Trevor and Carmilla are in together is really important to his career. If at all possible, I want him to be able to maintain the gallery connection, even if he can’t attend the show. How would you handle it?”

Vlad frowned. “She can’t prevent him from attending, can she?”

Adrian thought about it. She could threaten to pull out of it. She could claim his work isn’t his, like Shaft did. She could argue about his use of a pseudonym, although I think most people would understand it. 

None of these were the real issue. At the heart of all of this was the simple fact that people bore the Belmont clan genuine ill will. It was the ill will that would stop people from objectively considering and purchasing his work. 

“All she has to say is who he really is to the attendees and it would be over,” he sighed heavily. “It’s probably already over with the Ainav when they find out.”

Vlad tilted his head, considering. “Is there any publicly available paperwork indicating who Trevor is?”

Adrian started to answer and then stopped. Did Trevor even have a driver’s license? “I’m not sure,” he said slowly, trying to follow the logic. “I don’t think so but I would have to ask him.”

“Let me put it this way. If there is no public documentation readily available to prove that he is Trevor Belmont, the simplest thing might be for him to deny it and send her a cease and desist warning that he will sue her for defamation of character before she even gets the chance to tell anyone.”

That’s fucking brilliant!! Adrian thought excitedly and grinned. “Father, you are amazing! That is exactly what we will do! We will--,” he trailed off as his father gently shook his head.

“No, Adrian. Not ‘we.’ The Tepes cannot be seen giving legal aid to Belmont.” He held up his hand at Adrian’s immediate protest. “I know. You did once already. One time can be explained but twice is a pattern. We cannot be seen as defending or supporting any criminal enterprise whatsoever.”

Adrian’s anger seeped hot and steady into his belly, rising levels of lava into his lungs. He did not speak. “Not Trevor’s enterprise of course, but he is unfortunately implicated by relation.” Vlad continued, “And yes, I do personally feel the correlation is unfair, but we both know I am right. That is why we can give Belmont cash to hire a lawyer to draft the letter, but we cannot use Soma.” 

Do not offer him money, Adrian thought instantly. Rather than getting into that with his father, he sought a means to escape the conversation. “Alright, let me think about this a little bit. Sort out what it might mean to Trevor, and if it is even worth it to escalate the situation in such a definitive manner."

Vlad nodded in agreement and Adrian felt a touch of concern. Better to expressly spell it out so his father wouldn’t approach Trevor on his own. “Please do not talk to him about this. I don’t know how he would take it. I will think about it and speak to him myself. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Of course,” Vlad said easily and finished his icewine. Setting his glass down with a quiet snick, he stood. “Well, I told your mother I would not keep you. I suspect we will have a full day tomorrow, so I will take myself off to bed.” 

“I too think I will retire,” Adrian said and gathered his dishes. Amused, his father watched him.

“Sergei will think you are commenting on his abilities,” Vlad said and the painter winced.

“I forgot, he gets a little upset about that, doesn’t he?” He put the dishes back down but left them neatly stacked.

Vlad shrugged. “I think he likes to feel needed.” Adrian nodded somberly. That was something he could understand only too well.

“I wanted to talk to Louis for a moment about breakfast tomorrow,” Adrian said instead and opened his arms. “So I will say goodnight now.”

Vlad’s grin was tender and he clasped his son close to a coat that smelled of dark forest, cigars and a slightly metallic flare. It was a constant since the day he was born and once again, Adrian wished he could just tell him everything. He eased back.

You know it’s not that simple, he thought.

“It’s really so good to have you here,” Vlad said before turning to leave.

“It’s good to be here,” Adrian murmured and hoped that his lovers could feel the same tomorrow.

------

Vlad opened the door quietly so as not to disturb Lisa. She’d left a side light on for him, a softly mint glow from the hand-blown glass. The iridescent green fell across the room and the still form in the bed. He could see her blonde braid across the pillow and resisted going to stroke her head. She was sleeping and he would not wake her.

Stripping off his jacket, he stepped into the closet and quietly shut the door. Once it was closed, he turned the light on and sighed. The closet was vast, filled with their clothing and shoes. It always made him smile. 

In the closet, their personalities were so obvious. The black, navy, midnight purple and maroon with the very rare splash of color--crimson tie, seafoam vest, forest green sweater--could only be his side.

The swath of blues, pinks, lavenders, reds, silvers, creams, golds and purples on her side shone in elegant patterns and draping fabrics. Together, the closet of their clothes was like a gravestone surrounded by bright flowers.

Vlad touched one of the dresses, a golden column with a mermaid skirt and remembered how resplendent she looked at the state dinner, flawless skin and dripping sapphires.

Knowing she wore garters and nothing else under it as he watched her mingle with the crowd. Seeing her casually make her way across the ballroom floor and subtly slip out. Finding her in the meeting room upstairs, the dress on the floor, and her long, graceful form laid out like the most erotic centrepiece possible. 

He would never forget what she looked like; a reclining goddess awaiting spring. The golden waves of her hair spilling over the dark wood, the ocean blue sapphires at her throat and ears and pouring from her eyes, navy silk garterbelt and nude stockings adorning miles of legs that lead to blue satin stilettos.

When he’d locked the door she’d turned to him and smiled. “I call this meeting to order,” she’d murmured. 

The memories stoked his arousal and he smiled ruefully. Lisa loved to take calculated risks, bringing excitement and uncertainty into both of their lives.

She loves reminding me that we are alive and in love, his heart whispered to him. It was one of the things he adored about her. She understood the boundaries of what was manageable and shaped new possibilities inside of them. Sometimes, she even found a way to extend them past what had seemed feasible and opened up new worlds.

She has changed my life forever. She gave me love when I thought my heart was stone and a son when I was certain there would be no children, he thought. His thoughts turned to the painter. Alucard. Your heart is too kind.

He worried about it as he sat and removed his boots, leaving them by the seat for his valet to polish. Yes, Trevor was tragic, charming and appealing but his son should not be so eager to help him. He knew that Alucard understood the danger of the media but his noble need to help was blinding him to how enmeshed the Tepes family was already.

Lord Tepes shrugged out of his jacket and folded it on the low, padded bench. The seat was a deep blue silk taffeta, carved mahogany, 17th century. It was one of the first pieces he’d acquired after locating Mathias’ journal. 

It was a blessing that I could afford to reclaim so many of our lost heirlooms, he thought. If only it’d been as easy with the paintings. He stripped off the massive garnet and opened the jewelry drawer with the code. The cravat followed on top of the jacket.

There was no point in speculating; what was done was done. Now he just had to determine how to nip it at the bud. He’d called Saint after the conversation with Alucard and confirmed that he could move the required funds within a two week timeframe. Vlad unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into the hamper. He sat down and pulled off his boots.

How to approach it with Trevor? he wondered. Offering him the money with one hand and asking him to sever ties with Sypha and Alucard with the other. It would be very tricky. Belmont had pride and he cared a great deal for Sypha. Vlad stood and removed the belt from his pants.

If I could frame it as protecting Sypha though-, he thought. The closet door opened and there was Lisa, thick braid falling over her shoulder, thin cotton nightgown delicately whirling around her ankles, the ¾ sleeves with the bells framing the slim, strong arms.

It didn’t matter how long they’d been married, the shape of her body under the cotton made his pulse race. “I can hear you thinking from all the way over there,” she said admonishingly, indicating the bed with a sweep of her hand.

“I’m sorry, lots on my mind tonight,” he said to her, unbuttoning his pants. “Go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“Mmmmm, no, Lord Tepes, that’s a no-go,” she said as he stripped off his pants and folded them on top of the suit jacket. “I’m awake now, and it’s your fault.”

He looked up to apologize again and caught the amused desire on her face. Ah, I see how it is, he thought, a small jump in his pulse in response. He smirked and spread his hands. “I would make amends, of course.”

“Of course,” she countered. “It’s only fair after all.” He stalked forward and a slow smile spread across her face. “I may have been thinking about you in that suit, just a little,” she told him. He stepped up to her and cupped her face.

“And I may have wondered what you had on under that dress,” he murmured to her as he bent his head.

How could he explain the comfort and familiarity of the kiss even as it sliced cleanly with poignant excitement? It was a bit like a rollercoaster that you’d lived your entire life on but it still took you to worlds you’d never seen before.

“The usual wifely bits,” she grinned against his mouth, even as the last word melted into a moan. “Vlad, yes.”

The tingle of cool water on hot skin, the sparkle of sunlight on pristine snowfall, the beat of crane’s wings in an ancient dance of courtship. He could taste it all on her lips, as pure as the first time and as deeply true as it’d always been. There was never anyone else for him and there never would be. 

The warmth of her hands molded to his shoulders. The delicate bones of her face made his hands feel large and unwieldy. No matter how many times he tasted her, touched her, he was overcome with awareness of the blessing she was. The reverence of that knowledge kept his hands gentle and his movements easy.

Like a pilgrim on a journey to heaven, he nipped over her lip, jaw, and down her throat. She shuddered and clung to him, the neatly rounded tips of her fingernails biting into his skin in the sweetest demand.

She smelled of a bed warmed by the afternoon sun, linen and heat and comfort. The rich floral notes of Summer Hill clung to her collarbone and he had to smile. The woman could wear any fragrance in the world, even have one made for her by the best perfumeries in Paris. She still wore the one he smelled when they first met.

“I can feel your grin, Vlad,” Lisa said with an amused and reproachful tone. “What’s so funny?” It was only slightly ruined by the hitch in her breath when he outlined the curve of her breast with the edge of his fingernails. 

Expertly he went to work on the buttons at the front of the nightgown. “I was just thinking how happy I am that some things never change,” he said simply. The upper curve of her breast appeared, a gentle contour disappearing into pink shadow.

“Are you saying I am boring?” she mocked teasingly and gasped as he scraped his teeth over the creamy rise. Her fingers thrust into his hair, a little urging tug that told him she liked it.

“Never, my love,” he said seriously. “Tu ești totul pentru mine.*”

“And you are mine,” she answered him and he worked to keep his hands light as they moved to the next button. She was his and always would be. There was nothing he wouldn’t do and nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice. 

I would give everything that I am for you, he thought, the dark possession laid bare like raw wood under a spinning blade. “I need you,” he rasped.

“Come to bed,” she whispered to him, the tenderness in her voice like an opening gate to a garden filled with white lilies under the full moon.

She softened into him, the surrender of her body following the offering of her heart and he lifted her to him. Lisa molded herself to his frame, legs twined around his body and took his mouth. 

He shifted his hands to the curve of her bottom, large hands spanning the perfect, small handfuls. Everything about her was an incredible contrast. The delicacy of her shape and the strength of her limbs. The sweetness of her scent and the potency of her mouth. The angelic lines of her face, the temptation of her desire. 

When he lay Lisa on their bed, she arched into him and there was nothing but trust, love, and a span of time that would never cease and never separate them. Vlad didn’t believe in fate or destiny but she’d always made him wonder. Her hands moved over him, touches of insistence, entreaty, claiming and love.

“You are so beautiful,” she told him, mouth finding the curve of his shoulder as he shuddered against her. “I love how powerful and soft you are at the same time.”

“That’s funny, I was just thinking that about you,” he chuckled, the sound trailing off as he parted her nightgown. There was the spike of lust that always overwhelmed him with its urgency and the waterfall of love that refused all logic with a pounding gratitude.

“Soft,” he observed, cupping her breast, warm, gentle weight in his hand.

“Powerful,” he murmured as he traced the muscle on the top of her thigh.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as he kissed the marks on her belly from carrying their child. 

“Vlad,” she twisted against him, “let me touch you.” He smiled, a knowing, mischievous smirk.

“But my love,” he said, casually stroking attentively peaked nipples. Lisa cried his name; a twisting column of pleasure in his belly. “I’m making amends, aren’t I?”

“You scoundrel, you know that’s-!” He licked over the pale blush of her nipples and the rest of the sentence was lost to his ministrations. “Vlad, please,” she said. It wasn’t a request and his grin was wide.

People often thought Lisa was a gentle, gracious woman. And she was, in many arenas. But here, in the space between them, she commanded as much as she gave. Tender suckling earned him a murmur of approval and her hands on his waistband.

When her sure, seeking hands shaped his arousal and stroked, he groaned. She stopped. “Ooops, I don’t want to get in the way of you making amends,” his wife said, playful and breathless.

“Lisa,” he warned, sampling her other nipple and flattening his hand against her belly.

“Oh no, I better just be still,” she continued. “Don’t want to interfere with the important work of Lord Te-.” He pressed his teeth into the curve of her shoulder and her yelp merged into a purr.

“If that was supposed to dissuade me, it didn’t,” she told him. Vlad nipped, light indentations that would fade within the hour. “Tease,” she admonished and pressed against his shoulders.

“Want to be on top, do you?” he asked her and she smirked. The spirited coyness made the slippery fist on his control slide. Lisa on top was always delicious. 

“Just want to make it easier for you to rectify the situation,” she suggested sweetly. 

He snorted, mouth wandering down her belly as he struggled to appear indifferent. “Besides, if I was on top, I could follow my hands with my tongue,” she said invitingly. He felt the press of her nails dance up his rigid desire and paused.

“That’s not playing fair,” he grumbled and she laughed, the rich sound echoed in the roll of her belly against his cheek.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Lisa said, clearly pleased. “Isn’t that the quote?” This time when she pressed his shoulders he allowed himself to be rolled over and went up on one elbow to watch her shed her nightgown like the sun departing the sky. 

She is the warmth in my world and the light I would orbit, he thought reverently.

Pulling the tie from her braid, she shook her hair out, the fine waves spreading over her shoulders. She stepped between his thighs, breasts swaying like peaches in the breeze and put her hands on the waistband of his underwear. 

“Besides,” she said, eyes on the descent of the fabric. “I want to say thank you. It’s only polite, right?” 

He hissed; lost in pleasured sensation as she licked over the exposed flesh. Her tongue followed the downward movement of his underwear until it hit mid-thigh.

“Vlad,” her grip on his muscled thigh tightened before she released him. Her yank to remove the item of clothing was rough and urgent.

“Yes, love,” he answered her, watching the bluejay feather eyes darken with passion. Lisa placed a knee beside his hip. Rising over him, she was a yearning dream of possibility and promise. 

Goddess incarnate, guardian of my heart, he thought.

She sunk down on him; wet welcome slipping against the underside of his shaft. Her soft cry of pleasure pressed against his whispered oath. Her movement was slow, teasing torture and she leaned forward to clasp his hands. 

In the fragile confines of her body he had never been more powerless or more fulfilled. “Lisa,” he whispered to her; prayerful, desperate, bewitched. “Let me taste you.”

“I was going to,” she panted lightly, wiggling slightly with a hitched gasp. “But there’s a big,” another slick drag that he bucked up into, "distraction that is convincing me I just want to ride you.”

He ached for it and for her. “There’s more than one way to ride me, though,” he said, one hand gripping her slim, lightning-quick hips. He reached between their bodies and she gasped, arching into his questing strokes.

Her grin was decidedly wicked. “Why Vlad Dracula Tepes, are you inviting me to-?” She squealed as he yanked her forward and slid himself down at the same time.

“Yes, I am,” he ground out; stroking her slowly with his fingertips before following with his tongue. There was no one, and nothing, like making love with Lisa. It consumed him, wrung him out and filled him back up. 

In these moments he was fulfilled, connected, completed.

When she moved above him, the sounds of her pleasure was the wild cry of a bird swooping into the sea. She was as eternal and familiar as the sluice of waves over a sandbar and she moved against his mouth just as rhythmically. 

The softness of her thighs against his cheeks and her curved nails scraping on his scalp, tugging in his hair. The gentle contour of her hips under his palm and the immersive seduction of her wet heat against his mouth. This was succumbing to paradise and embracing the sun.

Vlad was a powerful man. At this point in his life, there was virtually nothing that would be out of his reach. There were obviously exceptions to that but really, he lacked for nothing; need or want or fantasy. 

But when he was like this, there was nothing that could rival the passion he had for the woman he held. This was a power unmeasured by anything else in his experience. No one else touched Lisa like this and no one else ever would.

The sound of his name, the hitch of her breath, the sweat that sprang up between her breasts; each one was another grain of sand in the clamshell of his desire. They rolled together, collecting shimmer and sheen. By the time he felt the tell-tale trembles of her impending release, there was a trove of glistening pearls tumbling through his limbs.

“Oh, beloved, yes.” She arched against his mouth; supple form, tumbling hair and flushed skin. He sped up his caress, savoring her pleasured hiss. The tendons of her thigh tensed and the intensity of her rocking increased as she cried out, “Vlad!,” quaking hard against him. 

Only you, he thought, always you. He didn’t stop until she slid bonelessly off of him and lay, panting and trembling on the coverlet. 

He rolled astride her, caging her within his arms. “Accept my apology?” he teased gently and she grinned, eyes wide as she nodded. 

“I was going to say thank you,” she managed. “I seemed to have neglected to do that.”

“You did; don’t you remember?” he murmured, kissing her cheek and nibbling gently at her ear. She shivered cupping his head.

“I did?” she asked him, the slightly confused question ending with a gasp as his hard arousal pressed into her thigh.

“Oh, Vlad.” Lisa spread her legs and tucked one over his hip. It was an unmistakable invitation.

“Yes, see?” He said as he fit himself against her and eased inside with a muttered groan. She arched in timeless welcome, legs locked at the small of his back as though she could hold him twice over.  

Soția mea, inima mea, viața mea*, he thought, a tiny prayer of thanks to the universe.

“No, I can’t see, but oh my,” she moaned, “I can feel.” She tugged his beard down for a quick kiss with soft lips and a small gasp. “And you feel incredible.” 

Actually, that would be you, he thought, reminding himself to pace it. He was greedy and never wanted this to end. Can you really blame yourself though? Her soft warmth and strong legs. The enveloping, slick welcome. The press of her teeth to his shoulder. The moment was perfect. She is perfect, he corrected himself.

Vlad bent his head to lick a flawless, pert nipple and felt her answering squeeze around him. The sensation was enough that his hands tightened instinctively. He started to move slowly inside her and she shuddered against him, a piece of lace in the breeze. 

“You were telling me how I was thanking you?” she prompted, even as she rocked against him, meeting his measured strokes. 

He drew her nipple into his mouth and nipped. She moaned, “Vlad.”

“The way you say my name,” he growled against the sweet swell and answered her with a snap of his hips. Her sharply pleasured inhale clawed an opening for passion to pour into his mouth. “The sounds you make,” he rasped. “There is no sweeter appreciation you could give me. I could drink them all night.”

Her smile was cheeky, but the lust in her eyes and the way her lips parted told him his words had found their mark. “You just love knowing what you do to me,” she told him, her hands twining around his neck.

“Of course I do,” he said. She pulled his hair firmly and he groaned.

“Hmmmm, seems that might be something I share with you,” she observed. The glide of her nails down his spine caused him to thrust heavily and she arched swiftly, the press of her heels little demands for speed.

“Faster, Vlad, you are teasing me,” she admonished, hips rising to meet his thrust.

“Demanding woman,” he groused teasingly, but obliged her. Her answering purr alongside the pleasurable movements spiralled like a corkscrew into the molten desire pooling low in his belly. “Lisa,” he whispered and she kissed his throat.

“Yes,” she answered, arms tightening slightly as she wrapped herself around him.

There were no more words that needed to be said as the conversation between their hips took over. The accompanying murmurs, gasps and slicked kisses of sound were a symphony of desire and understanding that they’d perfected over almost thirty years.

When her movements lost their fluid grace in favor of a stuttered dance that was an undeniable plea for release, he kissed her brow and reached between them. 

“Oh, really?” she asked breathlessly. “More amends? You know me too well.” He couldn’t help his snicker. She grinned.

“Let’s just say, your hips don’t lie,” he teased, fingertips dancing over her. She twisted under him, drenched, impatient, needy.

“Nor do yours love,” she answered, lightly panting. “Let me roll over; we can finish together.”

His pulse quickened. “Lisa,” he purred, “Are you trying to say thank you again?”

“Thank you to you, and thank you to me?” she quipped and gave him a playful smack on his butt. “Tell me you don’t want to,” she asked, the needful timbre slipping like a golden plume into his belly. “Please Vlad.”

It was the token passing of power but it fed into his desire like a tsunami. Vlad eased back and they both sighed regretfully as he slipped from her. 

She was nimble and quick when she shimmied onto her belly and elbows. Lisa arched toward him, the lithe line of her spine curving into a lush invitation. His harsh, prayerful exhale punctuated the expectant silence as he took in the incredible sight.

Lisa widened her legs and peeked over her shoulder, every elegant inch poised in anticipation. Even her breath was pure seduction. “It’s not like you to keep a lady waiting, Lord Tepes,” she murmured.

Sometimes she just staggered him. She was such an incredible woman; intelligent, sexy, warm, vital. Careful to hold off just a little longer, he draped himself over her, holding her protectively in the cradle of his body. His left hand covered hers and she linked her fingers in his. 

“My wife, my beautiful,” he said to her. Gorgeous, angelic, temptress, mine, he finished. 

She turned, her cheek brushing his mouth as her lips sought his. “Vlad. I love you,” she whispered to him. Her fingernails grazed over his cheek, little scrapes of possession that underlined her words before her hand fell away.

“I love you so much,” he told her. “More than I can ever explain or show you.”

“I have faith in your ability to show me,” she said. The light, questing touch of her fingertips against his arousal made him grin even as he hissed. The sensitivity of his aroused state took the simple strokes as fireworks booming in the night sky of his desire. 

“Yes, I get the message, Lisa,” he chuckled. His laugh was cut short when she circled him firmly and eased the tip of his shaft inside her. “Hell, do I ever,” he grated out. 

When she wiggled gently and slipped further down on him, he gripped her hips and plunged. “Oh! Yes!” she cried out and curved her spine to allow him further depth. “Just like that, oh, Vlad!” 

He could feel the brush of her knuckles against him, little bolts of lightning against his skin that shot pleasure through his limbs. It was maddening, thrilling and pushed his desire into the clouds.

Her hips rolled against him, and she met each thrust with wild passion and murmured encouragement. Her words fell over Vlad; a rising cloud of scented pleasure that clung to his skin like dew. 

When she rose up onto her hands to take him as deeply as possible, he was lost.

Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her into his lap. “Touch yourself Lisa, I want you to come with me,” he demanded, voice tight and teetering on the edge of command.

Her head fell back, soft blonde tresses falling over his shoulder and filling the air with her fragrance. He watched Lisa’s throat work, her panting shudders like a plethora of hands caressing his body. 

Vlad felt her hand move over the arm he had across her belly and covered it with one of his own. Together they sketched a pattern over the flesh where she welcomed him and up to sensitive skin that ached for release. 

When she quickened the movement of her fingers and strained against him, he released her hand to hold her hip while he drove himself into her. “Don’t stop,” he told her and her laugh was weak, caught in the layers of immense pleasure.

“That was going to be my line,” she protested, but he could feel the muscles in her thighs starting to quake.

“We can share it,” he said thickly, breath catching as she moved with him, the slick slap of their bodies heralding the tumult of satisfaction that was swiftly rising.

“Mmmm, I’m greedy,” she gasped out. “I want it all and you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?” she asked, the coyness of the question lost in a passionate plea.

“Together,” he urged her, one big hand cupping her face. She turned to him, those impossibly blue eyes like chips of larimar shimmering in the soft light.

“Always,” she whispered back, beautifully flushed, golden eyelashes fluttering. “I love you, Vlad,” her composure fractured, the wild storm of passion racing under her skin. “I love your touch… Și îmi place ce face-!*” The rest was lost in her helpless cry of satisfaction.

The music of her release melted into his skin alongside the fierce cling of her body as she went taut. Buried deep inside of her, he could only follow her into the depths of a pleasure that wrapped him in a torrent of adoration and wrung every resplendent drop of joy into the river of love that they swam together. 

When she went pliant against him, he held her to his chest and eased her down onto her belly. Ever mindful of her comfort, he rolled them onto their side. She kissed his fingertips when he cupped her breast and her sigh was a deeply contented whisper.

“Te iubesc*,” he told her and she repeated it back to him, placing her hand over his hand snuggling more firmly into him.

“Will you get cold?” she asked him and he debated. It wasn’t worth moving at the moment.

“You’ll keep me warm, won’t you zeiţă*?” he responded and she snorted.

“A goddess would be able to snap her fingers and a blanket would appear,” she retorted, the slight edge of sleep creeping into the words. He started to shift to retrieve the one from the end of the bed and she put out a hand to his hip.

“No, please, just stay, just hold me? I was teasing. I am warm enough in your arms.”

“Of course,” he soothed, brushing the hair from her cheek and planting a kiss there. Her mouth curved into a smile and she murmured something.

“I missed that,” he said, leaning a little closer.

“Everything I need is in your arms,” she said a little louder. “Always has been.”

Always will be, he thought. There was never a question for him that he would protect what was his and those who were most precious to him. Cradling her in his arms, Vlad drifted into a light sleep, secure in the perfection of the world he lived in.
---

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
You were amazing
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled
It took my breath away
And I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love
As I do tonight
The lady in red is dancing with me
Cheek to cheek
There's nobody here
It's just you and me
It's where I want to be

-”Lady In Red,” Chris De Burgh

Notes:

I HAVE NO EXCUSES EXCEPT THAT IT'S VLAD AND LISA!!! I HAD TO!! *Covers her head and runs*
(This chapter is SO LONG, I am SO SORRY!!!)
---
*tu ești totul pentru mine= “You are my everything.”
*Soția mea, inima mea, viața mea= “My wife, my heart, my life.”
*Și îmi place ce face--! =And I love what it’s doing--!
*Te iubesc - I love you.
*Zeiţă - Goddess
---
Adrian - Erik Andersson, 'Vlad & Lisa,' 'Trevor' and the silk--all Pexels

Chapter 47: Won't you let me shelter you

Summary:

“No, I agree.” He felt the even breath of the sculptor fluttering on his neck and the warm skin pressed on his. The defenceless, limp hand on his back. That comforting strength and giving spirit. 

I would give anything, he thought, as he felt his heart falling into the lax curve of his lover’s body. “I want to protect him, Sypha and I can’t. It’s my fault; all of this. If he hadn’t come this weekend, if I hadn’t--.”

“Stop that right now.” Her voice was calm, reasonable. “Consider this: what if he’d realized in the middle of the Wise/Styria showing? How much worse would that be?”

Notes:

Badly Chapter 47

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Adrian was quiet when he let himself into his suite. He’d spoken with Louis about breakfast and had made a discreet detour to see Julius. Suspicions confirmed, he’d gone for a walk along the lakeside with Devora and Conte so that he could come back calm. 

It was up to Trevor to fill in the blanks and Adrian would not push him.

You’ve already done enough for one day, he thought bitterly as he turned off the living room light. He was sure that his lovers were asleep now and he would not disturb them. The shock of revealing he knew Trevor was Christopher was a slap he would have done anything to remove. Trevor had been through more than enough that evening already.

Turning off the lights as he went, he stepped into the hall. Surprise fluttered as he heard the soft murmur of voices. Gliding down the hall, he realized that it was coming from his bedroom. They’re still awake, he thought, heart beating hard. 

Quietly, he stepped into the door of his room. Sypha had shed her suit jacket and heels and Trevor had stripped to just his pants. He was sprawled over the bed on his belly while Sypha sat astride him and kneaded his back.

They were talking about the first time they had each seen Louise Bourgeois’ Maman. Trevor was so relaxed that his words were slurring and as he watched, Sypha bent to kiss his shoulder. It was so cozy and intimate that the painter was loath to intrude lest Trevor tense up again.

He went to step quietly away when Sypha looked up and smiled. “He’s here, Trevor.” Her eyes were soft and welcoming. Somehow it was harder to face than her anger or disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian said, suddenly shy as Trevor’s eyes fluttered open. “I don’t want to disrupt you.”

“No,” Trevor said, clearly trying to wake up a bit as he rubbed his hand over his face. “We wanted to go to bed together. I was afraid you’d sleep in the other room if you came in and we were asleep.”

That’s exactly what I was going to do too, the painter thought. “Alright, don’t get up, I will just quickly take this off and get in.”

“I’m going to strip and grab my t-shirt,” Sypha said, easing off Trevor and heading for the door.

“Awww, do I have to get up and take my pants off?” Trevor grumbled good-naturedly. “I’m fucking wiped.”

“No!” Adrian said quickly. “Just roll over and I will help you, one second.” He came around the side of the bed and reached for Trevor’s waistband. The brunette smirked lazily, looking down the length of his body at the blonde. 

“If I had the energy, I’d seduce you,” he mumbled, obviously on the edge of sleep. Sypha snorted as she left the room.

“That had been the plan, yes,” Adrian laughed softly and Trevor’s eyebrow arched.

“You had a plan?” he asked, half-heartedly wiggling to help the painter work the waistband of his slacks over the curve of his ass.

“Reach into my jacket pocket,” Adrian said with a grin. Surprise, Belmont, he thought with a snicker. With one eye open, Trevor pawed his way into the pocket and withdrew one of the vibrating plugs from the party drawer.

The brunette’s eyes flew open and he laughed. “You raided Lisa’s Party!” he crowed. 

“Hey, what’s this about a party?” Sypha poked her head around the door and Adrian looked up with a joke ready. It died on his tongue. 

“Sypha!” he breathed. “What are you wearing?”

“What? Oh!” she laughed and stepped into the room, leaning against the wall. “I um, had pictured a different ending to the evening, when I put this on.”

The strappy black lingerie gently caged her breasts like lover’s hands, the black lines tight to her skin and riding down her torso to the silk swatch that nestled between her thighs. The dark lace stockings sat high on her thigh with little loops that connected to the lingerie. Hair tousled and a wicked grin, she looked like a glossy advertisement for seduction.

“Holy shit!” Trevor said, eying her appreciatively. “You and Adrian both!” He waved the plug at her and she laughed.

“We’ll use both, I promise!” she said. “Maybe tomorrow?” She started toward the door and Adrian returned to his task of removing Trevor’s pants.

“We don’t have to,” Trevor said easily. “Wait, that is.”

You just said you were exhausted Trevor, it's written all over you. You don’t need to prove anything, the painter thought. “No, you’re tired and there is no rush,” he said calmly, working one foot out of the pants.

“I can watch though,” he grinned invitingly, and Adrian glanced up at Sypha. Her eyes were confused and concerned. Why is he pushing this? The blue depths seemed to ask.

She’s worried too, he thought and shook his head. She disappeared from the doorway. “No one here wants to do anything without you right now,” he said soothingly, getting the other foot out and starting to fold the pants.

“Well in that case, I’m not as tired as I thought I was,” the sculptor said.

“Too bad because I am,” Sypha called from the other room. “And I’m already out of the stockings!”

Trevor looked at him, brows knit with worry. “I don’t want to ruin the fun,” he said with a slight frown. It clicked for Adrian and he felt a sorrowful weight settle like thick ash over his skin. 

You don’t think we would be just as happy to hold you? To comfort you? You’d push past the edge of exhaustion to give us what you think we want, he thought and put the pants aside. 

“Trevor, look at me,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Blue eyes still slightly rimmed in black and red met Adrian’s gaze and his heart squeezed. “I like to cuddle, remember? I just want your cuddles right now.”

Trevor looked unconvinced, and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just been, like, a bit of a fuck up because I couldn’t keep it together tonight. If you and Sypha-.” He broke off when the painter shook his head and put his hand on the sculptor’s chest.

The warmth of Trevor’s skin was unfathomable comfort on his palm. I would give you solace, he thought. A place to be safe and to rest.

Carefully, Adrian stroked over the curling chest hair and up to the trimmed stubble on his jaw. “Your emotions? They aren’t ruining anything, okay? You being tired and needing care, that doesn’t upset us. Let us take care of you.”

There was a shuddering breath and Trevor closed his eyes. “You want to take care of me,” he stated quietly. “After I lied.” Adrian’s breath caught and a little sound of unhappiness escaped. 

We both lied, he thought. “I lied too and I am so sorry,” he said.

“I think I understand why you did,” Trevor said slowly. “Do you know why I did?”

Adrian nodded. “The C. Leon fight; yes, I was afraid too.”

Trevor’s hand gripped his over the brown pelt of his chest. “Yes, and I swear, I didn’t know you bought them, but then I did, but we’d fought and I-.”

“It’s alright, really,” Adrian offered him a small smile. “I understand.”

The deep exhale rumbled under their clasped hands and Adrian could swear he felt the atmosphere of the room clear. “Just as long as you know I am sorry and I didn’t mean to lie.” Adrian nodded.

“I have one more thing I need to talk to you about,” Trevor sighed heavily again, and the exhaustion in the breath was a forest flattening in the onslaught of a shearing wind.

Carmilla, Adrian thought and wasn’t sure he could handle something so painful with any semblance of grace tonight. The painter covered Trevor’s mouth with a finger. “Tomorrow. I promise, it will keep until tomorrow. You are exhausted. I need cuddles. We all need sleep. I will not be upset to wait one more day, no matter what it is. Please.”

The sculptor looked up at him for a long moment and then nodded. “Okay, tomorrow. That would be better.” Adrian smiled.

You are safe; you don’t have to be brave here, he thought. Let us care for you.

Trevor’s eyes watched him, tired and a little sad. He sought for something to lighten the mood. “I would have one thing clear though,” the blonde said with a little sass, gently removing his hand to unclip his cravat and go to work on the feathered bib.

“And what might that be?” Trevor asked with an arched brow and the quirk of his lips.

“I get first dibs on Trio, or else you’re on the couch for a week,” he laughed teasingly, putting the bib on the side table.

Immediately Adrian realized this was not something he should have joked about. Trevor’s face flashed with stunned pride, stark hopelessness and resigned weariness. 

“Trevor! Trevor, it was a joke! I’m just teasing!” he said with swift urgency.

“No Legs, I would give it to you.” He closed his eyes. “Truthfully, I would give you whatever art of mine you wanted. It’s the least I could do. I am... I feel overwhelmed that you appreciate it so much.” 

Adrian bent over him, framing his face with his hands. I’m sorry, I should have known better; I shouldn’t have teased, he thought. The sculptor didn’t open his eyes. With all the gentleness he could muster, the painter kissed his eyelids.

“Trevor, no, it’s your art, your livelihood. It’s priceless to me, speaks to me of an honest truth that I feel in the space between my joints. You cannot be giving that away, that’s a sacrifice I couldn’t stand. I can pay for it, and I won’t accept it, unless you let me pay for it.”

Trevor made a tiny distressed noise in his throat and spoke in a whispered rush. “Don’t you understand? It’s harder with you. There is so little that I can give you and I have already taken too much.”

“Don’t say that,” Adrian murmured, heart breaking as he stroked Trevor’s jaw. “Please don’t think that. You give me everything. You mean everything.” He kissed his forehead, passed his thumb over his lips. “There is nothing I wouldn’t give you, and be happy to.”

He sighed and stood, quickly stripping his jacket, the shirt following to the floor. Trevor’s eyes fluttered open. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly. 

“I’m going to hold you. I want to—I have to hold you, and you need me to.” Adrian stated firmly. The boots followed and then he was carefully climbing over Trevor, settling gently on his chest and turning him to face Adrian. “Let me take care of you, iubirea mea*.”

Arms softly draped, Trevor’s face tucked into his collarbone, and legs tangled, they just breathed. He could hear Sypha moving around in the bathroom and closed his eyes. 

Home, he thought and felt the grounding joy of knowing that wherever these two were, he belonged, he loved and was loved. He would have what he needed. He stroked over Trevor’s back. And, with luck, I can be what they need.

“That’s Romanian, right? And what you said in Lindenfeld’s?” The brunette’s voice was thick and he stumbled over the words. He was falling asleep again. Trevor’s question surprised him and Adrian made an affirmative noise in his throat.

“I want to ask you what you said,” Trevor mumbled. “Just remind me to do it...morrow..’kay?”

“Okay,” Adrian said and kissed his head. The quiet step of Sypha made him look up and he smiled. She was tousled and bare-legged, a simple t-shirt replacing the lingerie, her face wiped clean of the make-up. She was just as beautiful as ever.

“Do you two need some space right now?” she asked softly, “I can sleep in the other room.” There was a little snorting breath from Trevor and Adrian grinned.

“Belmont is asleep and we need you, not space. Come to bed, Sypha,” he said and she smiled. The redhead padded over to his side of the bed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Adrian melted into it. The delicate press of her lips, the sweet brush of her hair on his skin. Sypha calmed his heart, every time.

She moved back around the bed and settled in on the other side of Trevor. He watched her hand stroke his hair.

“He’s so tired, I hope he sleeps until noon,” she said quietly. Adrian nodded slowly.

“Me too.” He said, watching her reach for the light. “He wants to talk about some things tomorrow and frankly, I could use the sleep and perspective too.” The light winked out and he heard her settling back in.

“You two okay?” she asked, pulling the covers up from the foot of the bed. She draped them over the men and he murmured his thanks.

“I think so. I’m sure he wants to tell me about Carmilla tomorrow but I think I already know.” He struggled against the plumes of fury and tried to retain the calm she’d given him. 

I do know but I don’t want it to be true, he snarled silently.

Sypha’s low growl was distinctly unfriendly. “I’d like to eviscerate her.”

The ugly monster of rage swelled with putrid, bitter helplessness and Adrian swallowed hard, trying to push the burning back down. “She raped him, didn’t she?”

Sypha exhaled. “I-I’m sorry. He needs to tell you himself.” He felt her warm hand on his.

“No, don’t be, you are right and I wouldn’t-I didn’t mean to ask. Sorry about that.” He sighed, tasting the metallic need for bloody vengeance at the back of his throat. It was a crimson offering that he would someday slice Carmilla to pieces with. “To be honest, I put it together.”

“Shit,” Sypha whispered, distressed. “Has Vlad?”

“No, thank goodness,” Adrian said and paused. “At least I don’t think so.”

“I hope he doesn’t. If Trevor wants to tell him, fine, that’s his right, but…”

“No, I agree.” He felt the even breath of the sculptor fluttering on his neck and the warm skin pressed on his. The defenceless, limp hand on his back. That comforting strength and giving spirit. 

I would give anything, he thought, as he felt his heart falling into the lax curve of his lover’s body. “I want to protect him, Sypha and I can’t. It’s my fault; all of this. If he hadn’t come this weekend, if I hadn’t-.”

“Stop that right now.” Her voice was calm, reasonable. “Consider this: what if he’d realized in the middle of the Wise/Styria showing? How much worse would that be?”

It would be an unmitigated disaster, Adrian thought.

“This gives him the space to decide what to do, and to work through the disclosures with at least some ability to control the situation,” Sypha continued. “Don’t forget that before the Wygol, things were going really well. Obviously I wish this part hadn’t happened. My heart is bleeding for him over that. But I think he would say that overall, this trip has been really good. For everyone.”

“There have been some moments that I think really mattered to Trevor,” Adrian agreed slowly.

“Absolutely,” Sypha agreed. “I can see that too.” She squeezed his hand and he stroked hers. They lay in companionable silence, listening to Trevor’s deep inhalations.

“I wanted to ask him what my mother and he spoke about, but I didn't want to pry. Whatever it was, she seems to already accept him.” He felt a pressure in his chest, the contentment tangling with the residual anger over Carmilla. It muted the cautious happiness but he was calming. 

“Even Father seems surprisingly open to him. It makes me wonder what might be possible in the future. If, maybe, we could tell him.”

“I swear Lisa knows already.” Sypha said with a wondering tone. “I felt like I saw it on her face a couple of times tonight.”

Adrian took a breath. Because she does, he thought.

“That’s because I told her,” he said and he heard Sypha’s murmured ‘mmmm.’ “It happened by accident. I had spoken to her weeks ago about um, the possibility of the trio as an affair and today she--she said that she thought Trevor might love me. She was pretty sure.”

He could hear Sypha’s smile in the dark. “Ah Lisa, my darling, wise woman!”

Adrian snorted gently. “She is; it’s true.” He paused and the words tripped over his heart. “I think she might be right, but I am so afraid, Sypha.”

“Of what?” her thumb stroked the side of his hand, making him think of the way Trevor stroked his hand under the table. How they both comfort me, he thought.

“I can be what he needs here, in the privacy of our space, but out there…,” it burned like an ember on his tongue. “I don’t know if I ever can be and I wonder how long he can take that. I don’t want to hurt him, but I know I already have.”

The sorrow of it tingled in the bridge of his nose and he sniffed. “I want it to be simple, but I’m Alucard Tepes. There is nothing simple in my life.”

“Have you considered that it could become much simpler when the emotions are clear between you two?” she asked him. “So much of the fear and the questions simply cease to exist. It did for me and it might for you.”

“But the issue still remains: I am not sure I can stand to keep hurting him. I’m not sure he can permanently accept who we have to be in public. It’s not fair. He has told me that, and he has said he wasn’t sure how long he could hide.”

Sypha sighed. “He’s had to hide his whole life, Adrian. At least now, he’d be hiding something he chose and brings him great joy. Something that he believes is worth protecting.”

“I thought I could ask him to do it, Sypha,” Adrian said. “Now I cannot imagine he would find it worthwhile, even if he loves me.”

“You cannot decide for him what is worthwhile. Think about what it would mean to you to know he loves you. All you can do is offer him what you feel and what you are. That’s the hard part really. If he rejects it, it’s everything you had. But he hasn’t rejected you yet; has he?”

“No, he hasn’t.” Adrian said. But would he even be able to? Trevor was willing to push himself past exhaustion tonight, just because he thought that was what we wanted. Would he be able and willing to put himself first?

“Just before he fell asleep, Trevor asked me what I had said to him in Romanian and asked me to remind him to ask again tomorrow.” 

“Romanian, hey? What did you say?” Sypha asked, “I mean, if you want to share, that is.”

“Well, the first time, I said, ‘Te iubesc; sunt al tău.’ and tonight I said, ‘Iubirea mea.’” He lowered his voice even more and whispered, “I’m telling him I love him and I am his.” 

I’m telling him everything I need to say and can’t risk, he thought.

“Will you remind him tomorrow?” Sypha asked, understanding in her voice.

Adrian swallowed, the moment tipping toward him like a rocking bowl full of water. Once it tipped too far, everything would pour out over whomever stood beneath it. Would it be an exhilarating shower of joy, or a drowning fight to the surface? 

“I had a thought. I actually spoke to Louis about it,” he said slowly.

Sypha waited for him, understanding he was reaching a decision just as much as he was answering her. 

“I was thinking I might make breakfast and take you two for a picnic. There is another way to the church ruins I wanted to show Trevor today. I think I will remind him.” He squeezed her hand. “I think I will tell him, Sypha.”

---

Isaac rubbed his eyes and looked at the computer screen. The numbers didn’t make sense. The amount of money that he’d been able to confirm as coming from Tepes and being deposited into the Belmont’s accounts didn’t make sense. 

He looked over at the printed spreadsheet of confirmed BiG forgeries. There was no indication of any of them having any connection to the Tepes. 

The forgeries themselves didn’t even make sense. There was a shockingly small number and they seemed entirely random. Different artists, different time periods, different values, different everything. 

Some of them had even been previously authenticated, although Isaac had confirmed that their authentication had been decades before. Likely something was just missed or they hadn’t been replaced yet.

But if you are going to forge, why not go for the big money? Some of these were only worth $45,000 versus one that was over $23 million. There was a connection, but he didn’t see it. 

“Maybe they aren’t all for Tepes?” he muttered. “Maybe they had a side business in addition to him? Maybe that’s why he…” The agent cut off that sentence. If anyone heard him utter it, his career would be in question. 

Just because he suspected Vlad might have had the Belmonts killed didn’t mean that anyone would tolerate hearing it.

At a loss, he pulled the authentication reports again and looked over them. The sheer number of artworks that the Belmonts handled… He looked at the asterisked artworks--the confirmed forgeries. Again, there was no pattern here! Museums, private collections, government holdings. 

He frowned and looked again. The agent grabbed a post-it and wrote down the dates of authentication for the forgeries. Sitting back, he looked at his list. 1951, 1946, 1946, 1948, 1981, 1975… There was no date earlier than 1946 but no later than 1990. Why would that be? 

Mousing over the search engine, he spent several frustrating minutes trying to determine how art authentication worked. It seemed to be a mix of material dating, corroborating evidence, and sometimes art catalogues of holdings in a collection.

Thwarted, he sighed and looked at the time. He was off over ninety minutes ago. But why that timeframe? He thought. The federal agent rolled his neck and hissed as it creaked in protest. 

There was something obvious that he was missing here. Did a certain kind of authentication change after 1990? He tried searching, ‘art authentication after 1990.’ Another fifteen minutes gave him no answers.

With a sigh he shuffled the papers back into the file. Maybe it would come to him tomorrow. Under all the paperwork, was the slim file on Christopher Wise. Isaac narrowed his eyes at it. Even that was proving a dead end.

Thus far there was no indication Trevor used the name for anything really official. Yes, he did use it for the art sales but that was a series of internet transfers that went to an email address in Wise’s name and deposited into Belmont’s account.

He’d also used it for a fighting license in another territory that was bare knuckle fighting. 

Isaac hadn’t known about the bare knuckle bouts and it explained why Belmont had dropped off the map that year. It was also illegal for a minor to engage in, which Trevor most assuredly had been at the time. Isaac was keeping it in his back pocket in case he needed more pressure there. 

Truthfully he wanted pressure on Vlad, not Trevor. He liked Trevor and perhaps it was ill-placed trust, but he still couldn’t quite reconcile Belmont having been bought off. For years Godbrand had harassed Trevor about being a forger, being a criminal. For years the sculptor had snarled and spit over the accusations and not in a contrived way. It just didn’t fit.

He could still remember the boy’s face in the interview room the morning after his parents died, the newspaper between them. The tiny deaths of pride and love on Trevor’s face as they asked about the forgeries. He’d been devastated. 

Isaac knew people changed, and Trevor had certainly been through the wringer. But why would Vlad go five years with no contact, not even a couple thousand, and then transfer over $100k in one fell swoop? 

Well, technically Alucard did the transfer, he thought.

That was another thing. Where did the son fit in? He clearly loved Belmont and unless Isaac was mistaken, Trevor loved him too. Was it an accident? A plan on the part of Vlad? 

Love was a powerful motivator and Trevor might go along for love where he wouldn’t for money. Would Alucard be culpable, or an unknowing dupe?

He looked up at his computer, having gone dark from idling. A new search on Google, ‘Alucard Tepes + gay,’ came up with nothing except a bunch of blog posts that wished he was. There were several speculative articles about Alucard with a variety of high-profile women and even a couple of him with Sypha.

I did not imagine the connection between Trevor and Alucard, he thought. He trusted his instincts. So why wasn’t there an indication of Alucard’s sexual orientation? With a tingle of trepidation, he typed, ‘Vlad Tepes + LGBTQ2+.’ The resulting articles left Isaac with a mix of seething anger and uncertainty.

Romania’s last prosecution and imprisonment on the grounds of sexual orientation had been in 1995 for a three year sentence. The country didn’t overturn the law until 2001 and only because it was a condition of joining the European Union. Gay pride wasn’t publicly celebrated in any major way until 2010. 

Vlad had never spoken publicly on gay rights or any topic related to LGBTQ2+ rights. Neither had Alucard. Lisa had, but never about Romania, only in relation to the work she did for the UN and securing human rights.

The silence was a question mark for Isaac and he was inclined to believe that Vlad would not look kindly on the relationship between Trevor and Alucard. Not a strategram then, he thought. I don’t think he knows. 

He ripped the piece of paper off of the pad where he’d made notes about Alucard and Trevor and stood. Walking over to the shredder, he turned it on. There were many things Isaac would leverage for his job. Outing someone was not one of them. Not even for justice.

He needed to revisit Trevor’s involvement with Vlad from a completely different angle. Start again tomorrow, he thought. 

As the shredder ate through the paper, he looked at the wanted board. The faces were the usual mix of terrorists, white supremicists, and serial killers. Just as he was about to turn away his eyes landed on the swastika tattoos on one of the men. 

The swastika. The swastika. “That’s it! ” Isaac said with hissed excitement and ran back to his desk. 

One other late-working agent looked up. “Lead?” he asked and Isaac waved affirmation. 

Slapping the keyboard to wake the computer and impatiently fulfilling the multiple safeguards, he typed in ‘art authentication from 1945 to 1990’ and crowed with triumph when google auto generated ‘ww2’ as one of the options after the sentence. Clicking on it, the very first article was Wikipedia’s ‘Nazi Plunder,’ followed by ‘Looted Art Bibliography.’

“Yes! Yes, I have got you now!” Isaac hissed and settled in for the night.

---

Just when I believed
I couldn't ever want for more
This ever-changing world
Pushes me through another door

I saw you smile
And my mind
Could not erase the beauty of your face
Just for awhile
Won't you let me shelter you

How do we explain
Something that took us by surprise
Promises in vain
Love that is real
But in disguise

What happens now
Do we break another rule?
Let our lovers play the fool?
I don't know how
To stop feeling this way

Well, I think that I've been true
To everybody else but me
And the way I feel about you
Makes my heart long to be free

Every time I look into your eyes
I'm helplessly aware
That the someone I've been searching for
Is right there

Hold on to the nights
Hold on to the memories
I wish that I could give you more
That I can be yours

-"Hold Onto the Nights," Richard Marx

Notes:

I'm sorry that this was so late! I've been writing several POV and moving them around for the next couple of chapters because there is SO MUCH going on and then I realized I had a 12k "chapter" going... so yep, editing lol.

Major plot points right around the bend but first? Trevor gets a wish granted in a very wet way <3 And yes Moon, the vibrating plug comes into *play.*
---
Loooooook at Sypha in her GORGEOUS lingerie, a commission from the talented @sadtheburrito on Twitter!!
---
Photos: Adrian-Danila Koleva, Trevor-Daniel de Tomasso, Sypha-unknown model, Isaac-Tom Ford ad (model unknown), background-Merlin lightpainting via Pexels

Chapter 48: I'm gonna show you what it's all about

Summary:

“Hello,” she said with a knowing grin. “Would you like company for your swim?”

“Company plural,” came Adrian’s voice behind her, elegant hands emerging around her to settle on a hip and tilt her face to the side for a kiss. He too was naked and wet; blonde hair a long river of gold down his back with those exotic eyes peering like a surfacing mermaid out at his lovers. 

When their lips met, Trevor groaned. Adrian’s answering gasp when Sypha tugged at his hair catapulted lust into the air like dust under a bronco at a rodeo. “I suddenly don’t feel like a swim,” the sculptor managed as he moved toward the stairs.

Notes:

Badly Chapter 48

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Trevor woke, for a moment he didn’t remember where he was. It was dim in the room and it was only the press of his lovers and their quietly comforting scents that grounded him. 

Adrian had curled into a fetal position and turned away from him. He grinned. That hadn’t stopped the sculptor from spooning up against him as hard as possible.

Hard is definitely the appropriate term here, he thought, enjoying the sweet curve of Adrian’s ass pressed against his morning arousal and the firm crush of Sypha’s breasts against his back. Her hand was molded to his hip and he could feel the warmth of her breath at the nape of his neck. When his thoughts drifted to the lingerie she’d worn the night before, his desire deepened.

Then he remembered why Sypha, and not her lovers, had removed it. He remembered the art opening and the conversations afterward. His exhaustion and tears, his vulnerability in front of the Tepes’. That put a huge damper on his excitement. 

Trevor sighed.

As carefully as possible, he extracted himself, sneaking off the end of the bed. He had to smile as Adrian rolled over, putting his hand out for Sypha and slinging his arm over her waist. Her leg curved around his and they both murmured. He carefully covered them again and went out to the kitchen.

Rubbing his hand over his face he frowned. He hadn’t showered last night and he could tell. Need to brush my teeth too, he thought. The sculptor looked back at the bedroom with the sleeping occupants. To shower might wake them… 

There’s tons of showers in this place, he thought. Just take your stuff to one and use it instead.

He could always ask one of the staff if he had any trouble locating one. Quietly he crept into the main bathroom and gathered his toiletries. When he turned, he saw Sypha’s bathing suit drying on the rack and inspiration struck. There would be a rinsing shower at the pool and maybe even a full bathroom.

Either way he could go for a swim, which he absolutely wanted to do. 

Mind made up, he gathered what he needed and left a note on the floor of the bedroom so they couldn’t miss it. Seven minutes later he’d located the pool. It was right off of Adrian’s wing and was a lush fantasy of vegetation and low lights.

Windowless and tucked to the side of the house, it was like stepping into a secret grotto. The water gleamed like a jewel when he opened the wood door, the pool lights creating little spotlights of turquoise in the sapphire depths.

He was surprised at the lack of chlorine smell or humidity. It was charmingly simple with white tile and wooden loungers. The dense border of palm fronds, ficus trees and orchids more than made up for the lack of decoration, turning into something out of a jungle. There was a set of waterfall stairs into the pool at the far end.

The bathroom was off to the side, across from the sauna, and he was thrilled to find it fully appointed. Teeth brushed and face washed, he tossed the washcloth into the basket and looked at himself. The last 24 hours had been intense and he was hoping for a calm, quiet day.

“Looking forward to showing Vlad Tepes that my life isn’t a drama circus and I can be a good influence on his son,” he muttered to his reflection. Stripping down, he frowned as he rifled through his stuff. “Shit,” he hissed. He’d forgotten his bathing suit in the suite.

He briefly debated just skinny-dipping. Adrian had mentioned that there were no cameras in the pools when Trevor had been hinting at pool sex, so he’d probably be safe.  

However, the mental image of accidentally flashing Lisa was enough to convince him to pull his underwear back on. There was knowing someone loved your son, he thought as he adjusted the waistband. Then there was seeing the equipment they do it with. 

He checked the mirror. They were tight but black, so at least he would be decent enough. Tidying up his items, he bundled them together and placed them on the lounger outside the door.

The silence of the space was calming and he took a deep breath. He quickly rinsed in the shower and dripped his way out to the quiet water. It was serenely beautiful and he felt a happy warmth in his belly.

“Fuck it,” he said with a sudden grin. With a running leap, he cannon-balled in and sunk to the bottom. The water was lukewarm and somehow soft; not what he’d been expecting at all. When his feet touched the bottom he scuttled along, enjoying the freedom of full-body immersion and the space to move.

It’d been a couple of years since Trevor had been in a pool and the last one had been filled with people doing stupid shit at a party. This was different. The water centered him; allowing the memories, emotions and concerns of the weekend to slip away. 

It will be a good day, he decided as the insistence of his lungs drove him toward the surface. He wiped the hair out of his face and started to swim laps. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the pool that he heard the giggle. He stopped, clinging to the slick tile wall and listened. 

The shower was running in the bathroom. “Hello?” he called out and the shower stopped, just as the bathroom door opened.

Sypha stepped out and he caught his breath. Dripping water pressed her hair to her head and rolled down her body. There was no hem, no thread, absolutely no impediment to stop the long lick of the water and his eyes that followed. It was all Sypha.

The water darkened her hair into a ruddy fire, like the sun setting over water. Her skin gleamed like buttermilk poured over flawless china. Each curve rolled gently with her movements, a delicate salute to his immediate lust.

“Hello,” she said with a knowing grin. “Would you like company for your swim?”

“Company plural,” came Adrian’s voice behind her, elegant hands emerging around her to settle on a hip and tilt her face to the side for a kiss. He too was naked and wet; blonde hair a long river of gold down his back with those exotic eyes peering like a surfacing mermaid out at his lovers. 

When their lips met, Trevor groaned. Adrian’s answering gasp when Sypha tugged at his hair catapulted lust into the air like dust under a bronco at a rodeo. “I suddenly don’t feel like a swim,” the sculptor managed as he moved toward the stairs. 

Adrian pouted. “Oh no, really? We were thinking a dip might be nice.”

“Double dip,” Sypha quipped happily.

“I’ll double dip you,” the brunette responded smoothly, “both of you.” He reached the edge of the stairs.

“Oh,” Sypha gave an exaggerated, regretful sigh, “you’re dressed though.” She turned to Adrian and knelt, looking up at him coyly. “I guess he’ll just have to watch, hmmm?” She licked over his thigh and kissed the side of his shaft.

“Sypha!” Adrian exclaimed with a breathy gasp that exploded inside Trevor’s belly. When her lips opened to claim the blonde’s hardening arousal, Belmont mounted the steps with anticipation, lust hunting reason in a game of cat and mouse that passion would surely win. 

“No staff yet? Door locked?” he confirmed with Adrian and the blonde nodded, hands in Sypha’s hair and golden eyes shuttered by long lashes. “So we just have to be quiet then,” the brunette said gleefully and stripped his underwear off.

Adrian’s eyes flicked down and he moaned. “Very quiet, yes,” he hissed longingly and Trevor grinned. In three strides he was beside Adrian, fist in the blonde’s hair and mouth on his. 

Good morning, he thought hungrily, tasting awakening passion and quiet adoration in his lover’s mouth. He scraped his fingernails down the painter’s pale, smooth chest and smirked into Adrian’s lips when he moaned. 

Sypha purred and, with a heavy gasp, the blonde rocked into her busy mouth. Trevor smacked his ass. Adrian’s whimper was plaintive and the sculptor swallowed the sound like the offering it was. A warm, soft hand found his cock and Belmont bucked hard into the firm grip. 

He broke the kiss and looked down. “Did I mention you are so fucking talented?” he asked Sypha, marvelling at her pacing as she worked both their cocks in tandem. Pleasure surged through him and he grasped her hair firmly, just in time for the wet heat of her mouth to close over him. “Like god-tier talent,” he managed as Adrian nibbled at his ear and found his nipple.

The wet slide of her tongue, the press of her cheeks, the soft scrape of her teeth and he was clinging to the side of the ship of sanity as it barrelled over the waterfall. “Sypha,” he said prayerfully, thrusting gently.

She whined in her throat and the vibrations had him sucking in his breath. “You should try that on Adrian,” he urged her and she released his cock from her mouth.

“So thoughtful,” she said teasingly and obligingly switched to the painter. The blonde’s head fell back and his groan was deeply appreciative. Trevor watched Sypha’s pretty round ass wiggle with delight at the sound and he sank down to his knees, planting a kiss on a smooth curve.

A laugh rumbled in her chest and Trevor dipped his hand between her thighs. The laugh transformed into a happy purr. “Hello gorgeous,” he murmured, stroking over her slick flesh. “You’re feeling especially sexy this morning Ms. Belnades.”

Sure, confident fingers had her breath quickening and the steady rocking of her hips against his hand only urged him on.

“Spank her for me, would you Trevor?” Adrian asked cheekily and the sculptor happily obliged. She cried out when he did it, Adrian’s hard cock falling from her mouth. Trevor timed the slaps with shallow, firm thrusts over her aching flesh and felt her thighs tremble around his wrist.

“I said spank,” Adrian said authoritatively as he circled the pair, stepping behind Trevor. “Like this.” The hard crack against Belmont’s ass made his back arch and Sypha hissed excitedly. Trevor ached with anticipation and the scent of his lovers was a tempting tease that taunted with clever fingertips.

I love when he’s like this, Trevor thought with greedy desire. Give me more.

Obligingly, he slapped Sypha hard on her ass and thrust with his fingers, thumb pressing circles over her pulsing need. Beseechingly she cried, “Yes! Oh, please!”

The painter stepped over her prone form, proud, hard arousal eye-level with the brunette. Eagerly Trevor leaned forward to taste him and Adrian gently placed his hand on his forehead. “No lover, work for it,” the blonde said. “Make her come for me.”

Lust erupted in another hot, thrilling geyser, pouring down his body in scorching pleasure. Keep talking to me like this-- full duchess and cool authority--and I’ll come with her, the sculptor thought. “Adrian,” he hissed needfully.

“Sypha, you let me know if he needs to be reminded to do a good job; yes?” Adrian asked softly, the hint of eagerness a slash of color in the calm words.

When Trevor looked up at Adrian’s face he saw satisfaction and splintering excitement. “It would be my pleasure,” he told the painter honestly. Bending over the digital artist, Trevor cupped her breast, teasing her swaying nipples while he stroked with his other fingers.

She arched back into him, her curves slipping against his throbbing cock and dragging deliciously. “Trevor!” she exclaimed as he alternated plucking in short, sharp tugs. Adrian’s feet shifted and he kissed the top of Trevor’s head.

“I’ll be right back,” he told him. “Don’t disappoint me now.” 

“Not possible,” Sypha moaned and Trevor grinned, planting a series of kisses along the pretty curve of her spine.

“So,” the sculptor said casually as she writhed under him, movements erratic and breath harsh. “Come here often?”

“Trevor you are such an asshole sometimes,” she panted out. “Keep teasing me and when I come, I’m calling Adrian’s name!”

The idea was hot as hell and Trevor wanted it. He murmured, “Do it, he’ll love it and so would I.” The redhead sucked in her breath and nodded, hips rocking against his busy hand.

He heard the wet padding of Adrian’s feet and looked over his shoulder. The blonde carried a small towel by its edges. Something was weighing down the middle of it. “Whatcha got there?” Sypha asked and the painter gave Trevor a sly grin, bringing his finger to his lips.

“No peeking,” he said sternly as he set the towel down and unfolded the edges. Trevor hissed, anticipation spiking sharply as he saw the contents. The vibrating plugs. There were two of them, one pastel pink and the other royal purple. The handheld remotes were identical white, with matching buttons to the plugs. There was a bottle of lube beside them.

Adrian selected the container of lube, opened it and passed it over. Trevor withdrew his hands, coating his fingers liberally and tossing the bottle back. The blonde reached over the redhead’s back, hand snaking around to caress her face and cover her mouth.

“Hey guys, what’s ohhhh, holy shit!,” Sypha wailed against Adrian’s palm as Trevor’s slicked fingers slipped past her wet heaven and dipped into the valley of her ass. Expertly, he decorated her until both her entrances were drenched and clenching against him. He stroked long caresses into the dark cleft with his fingers and teased her slicked folds with his other hand.

“There was a suggestion that never came to fruition last night,” Adrian murmured into her ear, “would you like to volunteer?”

“I hope the suggestion was both of you at once, because yes, I most definitely do,” the redhead hissed, nipping at the long fingers over her mouth. Adrian looked up in surprise at him and Trevor smirked. The sculptor had suspected Sypha might want to try this. 

She’s not the only one, he thought, already imagining what it’d be like to feel Adrian move inside her as she clenched around him. To be as deeply connected with them as physically possible.

“I hadn’t gotten that far with the concept yet,” Adrian said thoughtfully, “but I am intrigued by the suggestion.”

Trevor eased the tip of his thumb past the tight ring of muscle and Sypha gasped, arching into him but relaxing at the same time to allow him easy access. With his finger he thrust shallowly past her folds and into her soaked entrance.

“Trevor!” Sypha moaned and squirmed on his hands. Adrian clucked mournfully.

“I would have expected Belmont to fulfill my instructions by now,” the blonde said with an arched eyebrow and a good dose of sass.

I’m never going to be able to hear him say, ‘instructions’ in class without getting hard now, the sculptor thought with a thrill.

“Oh, he’s definitely getting there,” the redhead gasped and he slapped her ass again.

Adrian circled to kneel in front of her. “I think he could use the help, don’t you?” the blonde murmured, and bent his head to her breast. Trevor could see Adrian's measured suckles and the fingertips scraping over peaked nipples. It was unbearably erotic to feel Sypha’s reaction around his fingers as she experienced the sensations from Adrian’s touch. The frenzied murmurs of their names was wrenched from her mouth with a sharp inhale as her hips raced against his hands.

She reached back, curving into him, desperately clutching the back of his head, her other hand buried in the painter’s wet mane.

“Just like that, just!” He could feel the trembles starting, the words lost as her release broke over her. Sypha shuddered against them as she came, sobbing out satisfaction; an impossibly gorgeous frame flushed with passion.

Trevor grinned. She’d forgotten to call Adrian’s name.

The painter nipped gently up the slope of her breast and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as she leaned into him. “Hey, where’s mine, Legs?” Trevor asked sassily and the blonde arched a brow.

“B+ performances don’t get kisses,” he said sternly, the words ruined by the smile he was unsuccessfully trying to hide. Trevor mock-sulked for a moment. I could have if you hadn’t distracted me with the… wait.

He casually withdrew his hands from Sypha and squeezed her hips. “I suppose I need to make it up to you two then,” he said seriously. “I pride myself on being a good student.”

Adrian’s eyes shone with provocative excitement. “I’m listening, Belmont,” he said and Sypha laughed weakly.

“Oh, no, you’ve challenged him now,” she warned Adrian, and the sculptor’s smile was wicked.

Oh just wait babe, he thought and reached for the plugs.

---

Vlad looked at Lisa in the pale blue light and smiled. She was so lovely and peaceful like this. He wanted to touch her, to wake her with a kiss but the truth was that he needed this time to make some plans.

With a sigh he closed the door and made his way to his study. It was early enough that he beat Sergei to the main floor. It was fine, he wanted privacy for what he was going to do.

The first call was to Saint, who finally picked up after the sixteenth ring. “Damn it Vlad, I need my beauty rest. We aren’t all vampires like you.”

“The sun is up, that hardly makes me a vampire,” he said, amused at the sleepy annoyance.

“It’s just up, and you are entirely too awake to have just risen,” Saint mumbled, yawning hugely. Vlad could hear the rustle of his sheets and paused.

“Are you alone?” he asked. “I need to discuss Belmont.”

“Mmmmm, I am alone but I would happily take him off your hands. He’s stunning,” the boutique owner mused happily.

Vlad sighed. “I don’t suppose it matters that you are almost three times his age?”

“Only so much in that, this old dog would learn new tricks just for him. Oh God, so many tricks. I would beg. In fact, I would like to beg.” Vlad rolled his eyes at Saint’s cooing. He was insatiable. Lord Tepes cleared his throat pointedly.

“Confess Vlad, he’s beautiful, isn’t he?” He could hear Saint’s smile and felt faint irritation. Of course Trevor was attractive. His father and mother had been too. That was beside the point. “He’s charming and roguish and built and lord, his smile. Have you seen him when he smiles?”

The image of Trevor’s grin when Vlad put Carmilla in her place came back to him and Lord Tepes felt the curve of his lips in response. Could he really blame Saint? He only knew Belmont as a beautiful man and not also as a problem like Vlad did. Besides, it was true, Trevor’s smile was lethal.

“He does have a great smile,” Vlad conceded and Germaine’s lusty sigh was a hearty agreement. “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, I need to ask you some things.”

“Yes, I dressed him and no, I won’t tell you how exceptionally fit and gorgeous and big his--!”

“Saint,” Vlad cut in, allowing the annoyance to seep into his tone. That was too much and he definitely didn’t want to know about that. Saint could be overly enthusiastic at times. 

“I was going to say shoulders," Saint retorted primly.

"No you weren't," Vlad said.

"Sorry,” Saint didn’t sound terribly sorry but Lord Tepes knew he was listening.

“Did Trevor talk to you about his parents?” he asked and Saint sighed.

“No, he didn’t,” his old friend replied and there was a sadness there that Vlad honed in on.

“Really? You didn’t tell him you knew them?” Vlad pressed.

“No, I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t think there was a point. I didn’t truly know them, personally, after all. Anything I would have to say would be meaningless in the face of such tragedy.”

Vlad was silent. Saint wasn’t telling him everything but he also needed to be careful about what he divulged in return. His friend was not a fool. “You aren’t telling me something and I would like to know what it is.”

Germaine’s breath hitched. “Do you know anything about his extended family?” the boutique owner asked after a moment. “What happened to them after the scandal?”

Vaguely, Vlad thought. He remembered the reports on the relocation and the name change but nothing else. “Not really, the papers didn’t cover it. I did reach out to them once.” Quietly, carefully, and through someone else, he added silently.

“They lost everything, Vlad. Two hundred years in the art world, their names, their pride, their livelihood, everything. It didn’t hit me; I didn’t really understand it until Theo Belmont came to see me.”

Vlad tensed. Dominic’s brother. “What did he want?” he asked.

Saint sighed. “He wanted to sell some of the heirlooms of the family to raise funds to relocate. He came to me because of my professional ties to Dominic and Penelope and, I think, because he hoped that my friendship with them might mean he would get a better price.”

Selling family heirlooms. That struck a nerve for Vlad and he shied away from it. He’d spent the better part of his life taking back what had been stolen from his family. The idea of selling it was unthinkable and he never would willingly. Do you think Theo thought he was willingly selling? his conscience asked.

“Did you buy them?” he asked instead.

Saint was silent for a moment and when he spoke, his words were brittle. “I was as shocked as the next person, Vlad. All I could think of was the numerous deals I had brokered with the Belmonts for my patrons, and how badly my own business might be damaged.” He clucked, a regretful little rattle. “Turns out not a single artwork was a forgery, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

“Of course; you had your own interests to look after.” The words were bitter in his mouth, a cloying, thick discomfort that he had to swallow against. Your own interests caused this, his conscience said, louder now.

No, it was business that went badly, his brain argued. It was a risk and we all knew the risk, we all understood what could happen. But it didn’t soothe him. I can still make it right. I can help Trevor and protect my family at the same time.

It would have to be enough. He wasn’t willing to risk all of this falling apart because of nostalgia and guilt.

“Yes, well, I did, and I told him as much. I asked him why, why would they do this and he wept, Vlad. He wept.” Vlad could hear Saint rub a hand over his face as he spoke. Unbidden, Trevor’s tear-streaked face from last night surfaced in his mind like a dead body. It mingled with Penelope’s face in his memory.

How could you? Her face stricken, wounded. Those beautiful blue eyes looking at him with grief. You swore. He shook his head, inhaling deeply.

“Alright Saint, he was upset. Of course he was. But what did he say?” Vlad prodded gently. He needed to know.

“That’s the thing, Vlad. He said his brother and sister-in-law were in charge. That was all he knew and now he had to pay for their mistakes. His whole family did.”

Immense relief flattened the pain and Lord Tepes exhaled quietly. Then Saint said, “I called Theo yesterday, after I saw Trevor at the boutique.”

Shock was a well-aimed fist to his liver and Vlad froze. “I felt badly, after Theo left,” his friend continued, “and I called him a week later. Told him I would buy a couple of things.”

“You stayed in touch then?” Lord Tepes worked for the right tone, surprise and curiosity. He knew Saint was connected but he couldn’t believe this. “Why?”

“He’s one of my North Eastern suppliers, Vlad. He and his family. They buy and sell antiques now. Simon Collectables, located in Bavaria.”

There were a myriad of possibilities here and Vlad needed time to think them over. One question remained though. “Why did you call him yesterday?”

Germaine made an unhappy sound. “I miscalculated. I assumed Theo had taken Trevor in after the tragedy. I called him to tell him I met his nephew. Congratulated him on raising such a charming man. I told him Trevor was just like all Belmont men, sinfully charismatic, rubbing elbows with superstars, and snagging beautiful women. Asked him if he’d met Sypha yet.”

Sorrow was a deadening snowfall drifting from Saint’s mouth. “He was so cold, Vlad. He said he had nothing to do with Trevor and couldn’t give a damn about whether he was dead or alive. I was shocked and I asked him why.”

Please don’t, Vlad thought but Saint was already confirming it for him. It sliced deep into Tepes and he was bleeding before he could prepare himself for it.

“He said that Trevor had always been headstrong and ungrateful and he’d gone too far. Didn’t keep the secret and the whole family paid the cost. I gather he believed Trevor was responsible for the leak to the newspaper but he wouldn’t elaborate.”

No, Trevor wasn’t, Vlad thought. I did that.

“Anyway, poor Belmont really is alone in the world. His only remaining relatives want nothing to do with him. See why I didn’t talk about his family with him?”

“Yes,” Vlad said softly. “I can see why now.”

Both men were quiet for a moment and Lord Tepes spoke. “I want to help him, Saint, but he’s a liability and we both know it.” His friend made a mournful ‘mmmm’ sound. “There’s been too many scenes with him now and we cannot risk having the Tepes name attached to the Belmont scandal.”

“What are you going to do?” Germaine asked him, clearly worried. “You know I don’t agree with ‘sins of the father.’ Besides, Adrian and Sypha are very close to him.”

Vlad settled back in his chair, hearing the soft clatter of the servants going about their tasks outside his study door. “I know they are, but…” Vlad caught it. He’d known his friend too long to miss the innuendo. He straightened and his voice sharpened.

“Wait. What, exactly, do you mean by ‘Adrian is very close to him?’ ”

---

Pool sex is the best, Trevor decided. We need to get a place with a pool. Maybe after we are done with our degrees…

The options were endless and he wanted to explore them all. Right now though, he was just really happy with the amazing view. Perched on the first step into the pool, he had a front row seat to Sypha fucking Adrian within an inch of his life three steps below.

Okay, several inches actually, he thought, watching the myriad faces of pleasure they passed between them. The water sloshed frantically in response to Sypha’s hips and Adrian threw his head back, eyes looking up at Trevor in pleading desire. His hair plumed in the water, giving him golden angel wings.

“You two look absolutely fantastic,” Trevor said, working the lube over his cock in generous pulls.

Adrian licked his lips, supporting himself on his elbows so he could watch Trevor’s hands. Sypha grinned and looked up, eyes hungry. “You could join us, you know,” she told him.

“But I already have,” he gestured with the remotes. “Remember?” He pressed the pink button and Sypha jerked with a wail.

“Fucking hell,” Adrian hissed, lashes fluttering and lips parting to pant shallowly. “I can feel that too.”

“You don’t say, really?” Trevor asked innocently, and pressed the purple button.

“Trevor!” Adrian wailed prettily and Belmont’s cock jumped. I can practically feel his clench, he thought with wonder.

“Oh no, was that too much?” He dialled down the remote to a slow, dragging pulse and Adrian moaned. Sypha grinned up at him and resumed her pace.

Nice try, he thought. I’ve got you too sweetheart. He pressed the pink button at the bottom and the tempo of the vibration moved from a smooth throb into a strong stutter.

“Trevor Belmont!” Sypha hissed at him in frustration, even as she squirmed. He loved it when she spat at him like that; it was that little spice that kept things interesting. He watched her face fight between faltering control and rising lust. Seeing her struggle against the impulse to just fall apart was hot as hell.

“Oops,” he said cheekily, “I got them mixed up.” Casually he pressed the remote for Adrian’s, watching the blonde arch helplessly, grinding into Sypha’s downward thrust. His lovers clung to each other; panting, pleasured, his.

“There we go!” Trevor said cheerfully, “That’s more like it.”

“How can--?” Adrian started to ask and it dissolved into a whimper when Trevor knelt above his head. “Whatever you are going to do, I want it,” the blonde whispered. The trust was a beautiful thing, an extended hand that yanked him into the deep end.

“You’d mentioned a ride?” Trevor said casually and Adrian’s excited hiss drilled down into his pelvis like a heat-seeking missile. 

“Yes, oh Trevor, yes please!” he begged and it was so earnestly hopeful that the sculptor couldn’t fathom how he’d ever survived without hearing that sultry plea for his cock.

Adrian reached up and cupped the base of his shaft, caressing long, clever fingertips over him. Trevor hissed and thrust his hips into his hand. Yes, like that, he thought, touch me.

“Come here,” Adrian insisted roughly and his demand skittered curled fingernails of desire into his skin. The sculptor leaned forward, angling toward Sypha and bracing himself on the step. The redhead took his mouth in a searing kiss as the blonde’s closed over him in a warm, wet suckle.

“Adrian, fucking hell,” he groaned. There was an answering whine under him that was distinctly satisfied. Carefully he rocked, easy and slow.

“I swear this is the most beautiful thing in the world,” Sypha said against his mouth and Trevor could only murmur a nonsensical agreement. The rhythm of the trio slipped instinctively into unity as hips and tongues found new means of conveying pleasure.

When Trevor felt the questing stroke of Adrian’s thumb press into the curves of his ass, his hips snapped in response. “Ah shit,” he began but the painter bucked up into Sypha and grabbed his hip, pressing him down. Trevor felt his cock slip over that talented tongue and arched needfully.

“I believe that means ‘fuck my face, Trevor’" Sypha gasped as she slipped down on Adrian's cock.

“I am making love to your face today, Legs,” Trevor retorted sassily. “If you want fucking, we need to change positions.” The painter smacked his ass and shifted Trevor out of his mouth  “Awww, come on now--!” The sculptor began with a pout and Adrian interrupted him.

“I want fucking,” the blonde said breathlessly, kissing the underside of his thigh. “And I am getting really close.”

“Mmmmm, I would like that,” Trevor said in willing agreement. “Sypha?” 

She arched, the pastel pink flare of the plug flashing out from between her cheeks. “Come fuck me, lover,” she invited huskily. “I want to feel you both inside me.”

---

Vlad hung up the phone and stood. Cold fury was a swarming hive of biting insects consuming him. Saint had back-pedalled quickly on his phrasing but Vlad pushed him. The boutique owner had clarified that the two men just seemed very comfortable with each other. He expressly told Vlad he didn’t mean it in the way Tepes had taken it.

He was lying.

There were very few things that Saint would lie to him about and he could not guess why he was lying about this one but it didn’t matter. What he needed now was to know whether anyone else knew and how far this had gone.

The ramifications of this were huge. If it was public, if they had not been careful, if Trevor went to the media, if anyone had evidence... How could he? Adrian knows what this will do! His position, mine, our legacy, our family! It could all be ruined!

Conte whimpered and Vlad realized he’d growled aloud. Do not assume. There is too much at stake here. Right now all you have is suspicion. You need confirmation. How can I confirm this? He wondered. Who would know?  

Sypha. The realization was immediate and knocked the wind out of him. Concern flared inside a sense of betrayal. Where did Sypha fit in? It didn’t make sense. 

Vlad needed calm and he needed a plan. Neither one was coming to him right now. No. What was coming to him was Adrian’s face when he snarled at his father that whatever happened with Carmilla was the sculptor’s business. Trevor’s face when he confronted Agent Isaac on the steps of Lindenfeld’s.

Lindenfeld’s. Julius was there. And he was there last night when Trevor confronted Carmilla. Vlad picked up the phone.
---

There was no way to explain the glory of it, no means to possibly describe what it was like to be inside Sypha, pressed up against her so tightly that he could feel her heartbeat through her skin, the shudders of her climax rippling over him and the answering thrust from Adrian in response to his own.

“I love you two, so fucking much!” Sypha whimpered, muscles contracting and demanding they join her in the cresting fulfilment. Her skin was so soft she seemed to melt into them and the surrender was sublime.

He held onto her shoulder, Adrian’s hand over his and watched the painter’s throat gulp for air as he exploded under both of them. He was lost in it, found in it, pinned completely and protectively under their bodies. Sypha had her hand wrapped over his jugular and the press of her nails into his skin was a tiny, erotic portrait that tipped the sculptor onto the fringes of that deluge of pleasure.

He kissed her neck and smirked at the gasping whimpers of his lovers. It was rising on him, the rush of lust foaming into a pleasure that would overflow now and swamp him.

“Lubiri,” Adrian gasped. “Vă iubesc foarte mult pe amândoi.*” 

Dimly Trevor noted that the words seemed familiar. It reminded him he wanted to ask what those words meant. As he thrust one last time, the curve of Sypha’s ass slapping against him, she gasped, “I love you too,” to Adrian. She reached back to cup Trevor’s cheek. “And you; God, I love you,” she finished with a weak laugh.

He heard her but he couldn’t answer. In the storm of words, sensation, and fulfillment, the pleasure overtook all possibility of communication. But his brain was still working and the keen edge of awareness flooded alongside the pleasure. The implications of Sypha’s ‘I love you too,’ hammered against him.

He didn’t say her name, he thought. The unguarded, yearning, adoring golden eyes that locked onto his held the promise of a future he couldn’t dare hope for.

“I love you too,” he whispered and shattered.

---

You don't have to be beautiful to turn me on
I just need your body, baby, from dusk 'til dawn
You don't need experience to turn me out
You just leave it all up to me,

I'm gonna show you what it's all about

You don't have to be rich to be my girl
You don't have to be cool to rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your kiss

-”Kiss,” Prince

Notes:

Lubiri. Vă iubesc foarte mult pe amândoi. -Love. I love you both very much.
---
I'm sorry this is later than I normally would post. I don't like leaving Badly waiting this long and it was not intentional. There's been a lot of stuff going on for me and I struggled with this chapter a lot. The good news is that I have the next chapter ready save for editing and will post it within a week!
---
Moodboard: All images Pexels, except for Adrian -photographed by Christopher Churchill.

Chapter 49: And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life

Summary:

“Yes, I thought that as well. Frankly, he’s overly protective.” Vlad sighed. “He confronted Carmilla last night as well because she touched Adrian. Each time it was a public scene. People are going to wonder.”

“Wonder what?” she asked him carefully. Here it is, she thought. Coming sooner than I wanted and far too soon for acceptance.

“Come now, Lisa,” he admonished her gently. “Isn’t it obvious? They are going to think that they are lovers.”

Notes:

Content Warning: Start of panic attack (Hector)

 

Badly Chapter 49

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lisa always woke up fully aware and today was no different. She registered that the bed was empty and the clock showed her it was quarter past six. There was a red rose and a piece of paper on the pillow beside her. 

All the thorns were stripped from the rose. In case I rolled onto it, she thought. He always thinks of me.

She reached for it, unfolding the stationary while she sniffed the bloom.

Good morning beloved,

I needed to make some calls and wanted to get them out of the way before the day started. I remember you saying that you needed to go into town this morning so I checked with Louis. He’ll have something prepped for the limo.

Adrian asked him about making a picnic breakfast for his guests--I believe they intend to go riding. I was thinking we could all take the boat for lunch on the lake, if you think you’d be back in time?

I’ll be waiting for my morning kiss in the study. I wanted your opinion on something quickly before you left. 

Love, V

Smiling, she stretched happily, sniffed her rose and headed to the bathroom. 

Twenty minutes later she strode down the staircase into the main hall and Sergei appeared. “Good morning, Lady Tepes,” he said and she smiled, greeting him in return.

“Is Vlad still in his study?” she asked and the butler shook his head. 

“He chose to make a personal call on the eastern terrace.” the man replied. “He requested breakfast for you in the limo; does that still suit?”

Lisa debated. She was early this morning and her appointment wasn’t until 9:30 am. Having breakfast together wasn’t rare but it also wasn’t often. “No, actually, I will take it on the terrace with him please, but Sergei, I must leave by 8:30 am or I will be late.”

“Of course madam,” he said and nodded before taking his leave. She walked leisurely down the hallway, looking at the beauty and comfort of her home. They’d made such a life together and it was everything she could have ever wanted. Not many people could say that and she never took it for granted.

May my son have the same, she thought. She’d thought a great deal about the conversation she’d had with Adrian as she got dressed this morning. It had been on her mind the prior evening too. There was so much emotion and love and fear tangled in the whole matter. 

She desperately wanted to discuss it with Vlad but she couldn’t. Not the least of which was that Trevor’s place in the heart of her son and the trio’s dynamic was not hers to tell. But she also knew her husband.

One of Vlad’s incredibly admirable qualities was his steadfast faithfulness. It was also one of his greatest weaknesses as well. It wasn’t just inclusive of his family but inextricably tied to his country. 

Romania was far more conservative than he was; than either of them were. Regardless of how Vlad felt about the trio in his heart, his immediate reaction would be as a Romanian, who lived his whole life as a representative of the country.

This was why they all needed time. Time for Trevor to pile his endearingly wonderful self on the scales. Time for Vlad to see just how desperately adored the sculptor was by his family. How happy Adrian is with him, she thought, her mother’s heart yearning.

Lisa was extremely pragmatic. Time would be desperately short if the trio kept encountering situations such as Shaft and Carmilla. It was just pure, bad luck but that didn’t change the outcome. Vlad abhorred scenes and gossip and press.

Some might think it was because of appearances, and to a degree it was. No one could ever discount the pride of Vlad Dracula Tepes. It was a fearsome thing and you would do well to tread softly when it came into the picture.

But in reality, Vlad was wise enough to understand that bad press fed into itself in a far more damaging manner than good press, or ideally, no press at all.

If you were the target of bad press, the paparazzi were that much more invasive, that much more dogged, that much more inclined to see you as inhuman. If you were polite, aloof and respected, it was easier for them to see your boundaries and respect the reminders. 

Avoiding the press was self preservation more than anything, and removed the public’s sense of entitlement to your private life. This was one of the reasons she’d agreed with him on the handling of media around their son.

However, Adrian was a man now and he had to make the choice for himself of what he was willing to weather. On what was worth living through the storm for. 

And what could be more worthwhile than love? She thought, remembering her own adjustment to living in the spotlight. Every time she thought she couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t take the constant attention, she would look at Vlad and it would all be worth it.

She could see him now, long, lean and regal, face intent and serious as he spoke into the phone. She couldn’t hear him, the glass terrace doors were closed, but it looked like it might be the kind of call she shouldn’t distract him from. Just as she was debating, he looked up and saw her.

The adjustment from the seriousness of the call took him a minute but he grinned and waved her forward. Crossing the last few feet to the door, she opened it and heard him say. “Good, no, that is good, Julius, I appreciate it. See you later today.”

The security report from last night, she thought with mild anxiety. He hung up and stood.

“Lisa, you look stunning,” he said adoringly. He crossed the table to pull out her chair. When she arrived at it to sit, she stepped into him and laid her lips against his.

Home, she thought, tasting devotion on his mouth. “Good morning,” she murmured happily and felt his thumb stroke the back of her neck. She nipped the edge of his lips and he purred.

“Better morning now,” he said and she laughed, breaking the kiss.

“You always say that,” she teased, sitting while he tucked in her chair.

“Because it is always true,” he told her easily, folding his long frame gracefully into the chair opposite her. Sergei tapped on the glass and Vlad waved him in. “Ah, breakfast,” he commented as the trolley came through. “Thank you, Sergei.”

The butler placed a dome in front of her and Vlad looked surprised. “You are breakfasting with me?” he asked with a pleased tone.

“This is actually a clever ruse to obtain an extra helping of bacon,” she quipped and he snorted, nodding to Sergei as he placed the dome in front of him.

“You may try, but I am protective of that which is mine,” he retorted as the butler placed the carafes on the table, bowed and made his way to the door.

“Don’t I know it,” Lisa murmured and enjoyed the amused twist of his lips. He arched a brow and removed the lid.

Breakfast was a comfort. Watching the flowers move in the breeze, hearing the whinny of their horses and watching the dogs run on the lawn centered her even more. Her life was beautiful and she was so blessed. Her stunning husband put his cup of coffee down and tapped the table thoughtfully.

Lisa hid her smile behind her tea and waited. Something was on his mind.

“I like Trevor,” he said, still looking at the lake.

Lisa resisted the urge to pump her fist. “I do too,” she said honestly, replacing the teacup. “I think he’s a good man.”

“I would like to be sure,” Vlad looked at her. Lisa tried not to sigh. She knew what was coming. “I think we need to run a check on him, just to be safe.”

She nodded. It wasn’t a surprise. Vlad had done the same with Sypha and probably with herself once upon a time. Her husband was meticulous about being prepared and this was one more way he could do that. “I don’t think it would uncover anything, he’s been very forthcoming,” she said.

Vlad nodded, picking his cup up again. “I don’t either but I also don’t like the involvement of this FBI agent and I don’t like that he lies about being Christopher Wise. There could be other things that might be a problem."

“I agree that the tragedy of his family has forced him to make some tough choices,” she said, unwilling to condemn any of his actions.

“I’m worried that it won’t matter, regardless of what I might find.”

Awareness and a warning flashed through Lady Tepes. That could mean anything, she thought. There was a lot of naked emotion running rampant last night. “Why would that be?” she asked calmly, hands linked in her lap.

“Sypha clearly loves him and she is Adrian’s best friend. I don’t want to create a rift there.” Her stomach settled and Vlad shook his head. “I don’t want to borrow trouble. There is enough already with this Agent Issac.”

“What did Adrian have to say last night?” she asked him. Listening as he outlined it, she had to smile when he reached the part about Trevor telling Isaac to get his hands off Adrian. The bodyguard was right there but still, he would put himself in harm’s way, she thought. He loves him so.

“Why is that amusing?” Vlad asked her and Lisa shook her head.

“I am not amused, I was just thinking he is very protective.”

“Yes, I thought that as well. Frankly, he’s overly protective.” Vlad sighed. “He confronted Carmilla last night as well because she touched Adrian. Each time it was a public scene. People are going to wonder.”

“Wonder what?” she asked him carefully. Here it is, she thought. Coming sooner than I wanted and far too soon for acceptance.

“Come now, Lisa,” he admonished her gently. “Isn’t it obvious? They are going to think that they are lovers.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Is that what you think?” she asked as her mind raced.

“Trevor and Sypha adore each other, that’s obvious.” He leaned back, thoughtful. “I cannot see where Adrian fits in, unless…”

“Unless?” she prompted.

Vlad laughed ruefully. “Unless our son decided that he wanted to throw his entire future in the trash and go out in a blaze of stupidity.”

The blunt horror of it was a slap in the face. There was no compromise in those words, no love or possibility. She couldn’t speak for a moment, a sick grief compressing her clavicle with a relentless grip.

“That seems extreme, darling,” she said finally and watched irritation flash over his features.

“Lisa, you know as well as I do what the implications of a ménage a trois would mean. If it went public? There’d be no surviving that, no spin I could doctor for it.” He rapped the tabletop sharply, leaning forward intently.

“The public would never accept it. Romania would riot. Then there is what you and I would both face daily. The questions about our parenting, choices, our stance.” She could see his temper rising. His face was foreboding, the words like splintering ice that stabbed the air.

If we supported him and were well-prepared, it could be done, she thought with despair. But you aren’t even willing to consider it. It was obvious.

“At best, he would become a laughingstock, someone to be mocked openly. At worst, he could be stripped of his titles. There are the clauses about disgrace to the position and ability to perform duties, remember? You can bet someone in the legislature, or even the family, would enact them.”

You cannot decide that for him though, she thought. It's a possibility, yes, but you are so sure that it’s an unacceptable one. Because for her husband, it was. Nothing came before duty.

“Think about it for a moment, Lisa. Succession. Title. Inheritance. Honor.” He spat the words in punctuated succession. “If this were true, everything would be jeopardized. And God forbid Sypha got pregnant in that situation.” His laugh was cruel. “Then it’s paternity tests and shotgun weddings and prenuptials and that’s if she would marry him and--.”

“I get the picture,” Lisa cut in sharply. She couldn’t bear the tirade further. Caught between her child’s happiness and the bitter will of her husband, her peace was gone. In its place was an aching uncertainty that told her she needed to make a decision for herself and swiftly.

Vlad nodded abruptly once and leaned back again. They were silent for a moment. “Anyway, I can’t believe it, for a number of reasons,” Vlad said, voice neutral. “I’ve thought about it at length this morning. Adrian has never given any indication of being interested in men and I simply cannot believe that he would do this. He knows his duty.”

Lisa felt his stare and prayed he wouldn’t ask her directly. She did not lie to her husband and choosing between Adrian and Vlad was not something she ever wanted to test. Nodding instead, she finished her tea and asked the question that would decide whether she had time.

“Are you going to talk to him about this?” she asked.

Vlad looked at her. “I wanted to ask your thoughts first. Do you think we should or is it too forward?”

More forward than the amount of time you’ve already spent thinking about this? She thought unhappily. “Let’s wait for the background check on Trevor first,” she replied. “No need to borrow trouble. If there is something problematic there, then we can use it to open discussions.”

She tried for an amused smile. “I disintinctly remember you avoiding the first discussion on sex, Vlad. I can’t imagine you are too eager to encounter another.”

Her husband laughed and it was filled with easy humor. She relaxed. The worst was over. “Your specialty is sex, Lisa. Who was going to say it better?” he asked innocently.

“Oh please, we both know you have an excellent scientific and medical background!” she teased. “You just didn’t want to have to answer his questions about why someone would do something like that!”

Vlad mock-shuddered. “I’d rather face Oriana Fallaci again than twelve year old Adrian asking about how sex feels.” Lisa let her breath whoosh out, remembering. It’d been one of the most important and toughest conversations she’d had as a mother. 

“It was nerve-wracking. He was so earnest and embarrassed.” She looked at her husband and hoped he would receive the hidden message. “It’s amazing how much more terrifying things can seem when they involve your child.”

Vlad’s face softened. “It’s true but you did so beautifully, my love. I was so grateful for your expertise and wisdom then and so many times in raising him.” He reached across the table and she took his hand.

“So anyway, barring something unpleasant coming up in Trevor’s background, I believe we might be getting to know him better. Which brings me to the question I wanted to ask you.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Adrian’s birthday present. You’d mentioned that you wanted to commission Christopher Wise for it,” Vlad’s grin was playful. “I say we ask Trevor Belmont, what do you say?”

The blonde chuckled. “I think that could be arranged.”

“I was thinking I might take him aside this morning. Ask him if he was alright with it and had anything that might suit? I won’t press obviously, but I am also aware there isn’t a lot of time. If he doesn’t want to, then I would like to make sure we have something equally wonderful lined up.”

Lisa’s immediate instinct was to tell him no, but she paused. Gatekeeping the men’s interactions would help no one. Vlad needed time to be with Trevor, get to know him. “Alright, that’s a good notion. But please don’t press him about it if he seems at all uncomfortable. I don’t want him to think we’d kick him out if he said no, or something.”

Vlad smiled. “I promise, I won’t say anything he doesn’t want to hear.”

----

Hector looked over at the two dogs playing in the morning sunshine and smiled. It was early Saturday morning and he had a little over ninety minutes until he had to be at work. The cool spring morning was perfect for working on his project taking shape on the roof of his apartment building.

He’d made the wood forms, put the block feet on, and lined the bottoms with plastic. As an extra precaution he’d stapled additional plastic on the exterior as well. The super had been very clear that if this at all damaged the roof, the expenses were on him and he had a $2,000.00 deposit from Hector as insurance.

Yesterday evening the artistic director finished screwing the two rain barrels to the shed and hanging the spouts to direct the flow.

The garden was a new project, something he’d discussed at great length first with his therapist, Phil, and then again with Miranda. It would provide food but also give the dogs a home space with grass and dirt to play and relieve themselves.

Miranda was especially keen on it. He knew that her hips bothered her more than she let on when she walked too long and her dog, Maggie, liked his exercise. So here he was on a Saturday morning, hauling bags of dirt up to the roof through his bedroom window. 

It was annoying but it meant he could use the elevator for most of it and that made it the most practical option. With a sigh, he carefully placed the second last bag on the roof and headed back down.

He’d just gotten the very last bag into his bedroom when he heard the phone ring. It would have to wait, he wasn’t putting this down on the carpet. He was already going to have to vacuum, he didn’t want to have to spot treat too.

He dropped the bag out the window and had one foot on the fire escape when he heard the answering machine pick it up. “Hector? This is Edgar. I am sorry to bother--,” Hector ran for the phone and took a deep breath before picking it up.

“Hello?” he said to his boss, and held the phone upside down so he could take a couple deep breaths.

“Hector, good morning! I am so sorry to bother you this early, I know you aren’t due at work until 9:30.”

“It’s fine sir, I was already awake and about.”

“Ah, good then, good. Listen, I got a call from that Agent Isaac.” Hector’s belly jumped and he gripped the phone a little tighter. 

No, he thought. Not Masterati. He wasn’t prepared to handle the complicated emotions the federal agent stirred up once, let alone today as well.

“He wanted to know about any reclamation or unveilings of lost art that the gallery has done. He specifically asked about World War 2. I couldn’t think of any but I told him we’d have a look.”

Hector’s mind raced. “We haven’t since the catalogue went digital. Further than that, I would have to check the files.” Why reclamations? Hector wondered. How does this relate to Christopher Wise or Trevor Belmont?

“That’s what I thought.” Edgar sighed. “I was wondering if you could give him a call back and let him know that? We can look but it would take time, and I gotta tell you, the man was impatient this morning.”

Hector was taken aback. Isaac had displayed almost no emotion with him. Still, his intensity had been unreal, and perhaps Edgar took that as impatience. Edgy, anxious or otherwise unsettled didn’t seem like Isaac to him at all.

“Impatient, really. Alright, I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Edgar was silent for a moment and then spoke. “Has Christopher called you back?”

Hector shrivelled under the disapproval he could hear in Edgar’s voice. He reached blindly for the nearest thing and found his shirt. He gripped it tightly and it helped him keep his voice neutral. You don’t need to placate, he thought. You don’t need to run. No one will punish you. His nerves did not get the message. 

“No, sorry sir, he has not. It is the weekend and has been less than 24 hours.” He worked to make it sound factual and not pleading.

“That’s true.” 

The few moments of dead air were knives of panic in Hector’s belly. Breathe deeply and focus on what you want the outcome to be, he coached himself.

“I’ll be frank, Hector. If Christopher is Trevor Belmont, we have a problem and I am not sure how to resolve it.”

You mean I have a problem, because I brought him into the gallery, Hector thought and tried to swallow the overwhelming dread.

“We will have to disclose to the Tepes’, and probably refund their money. Not to mention the art show this coming Friday. At least Carmilla would be thrilled,” Edgar said and Hector could hear the reluctant amusement at the mention of Carmilla.

Another of my mistakes, he thought. Carmilla’s work had been grotesquely compelling, speaking to deeply dark, slithering things in him that were tainted by the last three years. It’d made him deeply uncomfortable but he believed that was part of art; to challenge, alarm, connect and communicate.  It was only after the proposal for the art show that he’d discovered Edgar and the other staff hated dealing with her.

“These are all things to consider, of course,” Hector said, unwilling to engage with the disasterizing until he’d confirmed with Christopher himself. He wasn’t sure his anxiety could take it.

There was a part of him that already accepted that Christopher was Trevor. It would make sense. Of all people, Hector understood the need to hide. But there was a sizable part of him that prayed it was all a mistake. 

He loved his job and he did not want to lose it for anything. It was an integral part of the new life he was building for himself. To lose it would shatter a precious but fragile peace.

“Well, anyway, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Edgar remarked and sighed. “Although it does seem suspicious that this agent can’t, or won’t, give us any evidence of Wise being Belmont, doesn’t it?”

You bet it does, Hector thought hopefully. “I certainly think so,” he replied. He took a risk. “It’s one of the reasons I am not tremendously concerned that Chris hasn’t called back yet.” 

Or he could disappear and never call you back, a familiar chiding tone whispered. Hector shook his head fiercely, willing her voice back.

“You always have such a good perspective Hector, I’m glad I called. I feel so much better knowing this is in your capable hands.”

Hector gritted his teeth, afraid hysterical laughter might escape. Capable, right, that’s me! He retorted silently and forced a, “Thank you, sir,” that sounded sane.

“Anyway, sorry again for calling so early and I hope Masterati is reasonable. If he gives you grief, you let me know. Don’t know what I can do about it, but I won’t see you harassed.”

“I don’t think it’ll be an issue,” Hector said faintly. He needed to get off the phone. “Have a good day sir.”

“Yes, you as well Hector, take care.”

“You too. Goodbye,” he managed and hung up the phone. 

Normally Hector would have waited for Edgar to hang up first but the panic was too great. He immediately crouched down, pressed his head hard into the wall and succumbed to the uncontrollable shivering and rising hysteria.

---

Sypha sighed contentedly, happily sandwiched between her lovers. They’d slipped further down into the water. Half-floating and half anchored by Trevor’s hold on the railing, she felt safe, content and grateful.

“We need a pool someday,” she commented lazily, stroking Adrian’s cheek.

“What’s wrong with this one?” he asked her, “I thought it worked well.”

“Nothing, I’m just saying we--.” It struck her then and she laughed. “I’m dumb, of course, this will be yours someday.” Lord, this whole place will be his. It was alarming to think about and she didn’t really want to.

Adrian’s smile was small. “There have to be some perks to being with a Tepes.”

“There’s you,” Trevor said quietly and squeezed his arm. “That’s all we need.” Sypha nodded, eyes on Adrian.

“Well, me, and a pool,” the painter said lightly.

“The pool is a definite bonus,” she could hear the grin in the sculptor’s voice. When Adrian laughed, she gasped, feeling the slight movement inside of her in response. The blonde gave a knowing wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Tease, she thought affectionately.

“But not essential,” Trevor finished, wrapping his free arm further around the trio to give a tight squeeze. Happiness was a warm glow that cocooned her. There was the sound of a vacuum from outside the room and Adrian tensed.

“That’s our cue,” she said calmly and Trevor released them, shifting back and out of her. She bit back the wistful sigh. I would have liked to stay here a little longer, she thought and knew it was impossible. The sculptor took her hand and she carefully slipped off Adrian, who sighed unhappily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish we could stay but we cannot risk it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Trevor said, offering his other hand to the blonde, easing him out of the water. “This was amazing and I agree with you, we don’t want to create any issues today.” He grimaced. “Yesterday I was enough of one.”

The digital artist opened her mouth to protest but Adrian beat her to it. “If you are talking about what happened at the art show, it was Carmilla’s fault, not yours.”

“I second that,” Sypha said firmly. “Don’t blame yourself for anything done by that psychopath.” Don’t ever let her have that hold on you, my dear heart, she thought. She was wrong, always. You are blameless.

Adrian stepped to Trevor and cupped his face. “Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. Having you meet my family and being so incredible to them, that meant everything to me. You confronted Carmilla for me, Trevor. If there is fault anywhere, it’s mine, because I didn’t force the issue with her myself. I won’t let that be an issue when I encounter her again.”

“No!” Trevor said fiercely, gripping Adrian’s wrists. “I don’t want you anywhere near her, not ever!”

The blonde was calm but firm. “I will be with you at your art show on Friday. I am not letting you go alone.”

Trevor stared at him and then whispered. “We need to talk,” he sighed. “I need to tell you about her.”

“Alright,” Adrian said quietly. “Let’s go back to my suite and you can tell me.”

Give them the chance to do this alone, like you had with Trevor, she thought. “I think I will take a couple of laps here and give you two a chance to talk. Just text me when you are ready for me to come back?”

Trevor kissed the top of her head, while Adrian took her hand and kissed her palm. “Thanks,” both men murmured and made their way into the bathroom. Moments later, Adrian emerged with his swim trunks on and Trevor with a towel around his waist.

“Just leave your stuff Trevor, I’ll bring it,” she told him, slipping on her bikini bottom.

“Okay, see you later,” he said and paused at the door to blow her a kiss. She waved before stepping into the bathroom to put her top on.

Sypha took her time swimming, thinking about her lovers and hoping the conversation was going alright. The temptation to check in was overwhelming but she hoped that this might be the time that Adrian would tell Trevor he loved him.

Who knows? She thought as she surfaced at the end of the pool. Maybe I will return to the room to find tears of joy and not grief. 

She wondered whether Vlad and Lisa were eating breakfast by now. It was still fairly early but she knew from experience, they were early risers just like Adrian. Sypha smiled ruefully. She most certainly was not but it seemed that her lovers were, so she was slowly converting. 

Idly, she debated what they might do today and hoped they could get outside for a walk or a ride. Actually! She thought suddenly, I wonder if we could go sailing!

She had no idea if Trevor had ever been but it was tremendous fun when the weather was right. Lisa was an excellent sailor and Vlad was no slouch either. She braced herself against the tile wall and launched herself out of the pool. 

I’ll just text Vlad to see if it’s even possible, she thought, as she dried her hands.

When she picked up her phone, she saw the text. “OPEN WHEN ALONE.”

Intrigued, she opened her phone and popped the message. It was from Vlad.

“OPEN WHEN ALONE
.
.
.
Good morning dear Sypha! I hope you slept well. I suspect you are wondering what is going on! I need to engage you for a top secret birthday mission. I want to ask Trevor about possibly creating a sculpture for Adrian’s birthday (a commission) and obviously it’s a surprise so I need you to distract Adrian.”

“Oh how lovely!” Sypha exclaimed, excited. It was an excellent idea and another opportunity for Vlad to get to know Trevor at his best. Plus Adrian would be absolutely thrilled to receive something Trevor made for him.

She kept reading. “I know that there was a plan for a picnic this morning, so I was thinking that if you two could get started toward the location, Trevor could just follow. Adrian might want to return but I am going to ask Trevor to text him that he would be right behind you. I’m texting Trevor to let him know the plan, once you’ve confirmed you are in. Together we can make this happen!”

She texted back right away. “You brilliant man! I would be honored to help. I’m just swimming now, but I will let you know once we pick up the picnic basket. I’ll make sure we leave something important behind so Trevor has to run back-you don’t even need to tell him in advance!”

Vlad wrote back immediately. “You are a gem, my dear. That’s perfect, thank you.”

When Sypha entered the heart emoji to send back, the text from Trevor appeared at the top. “All is good, we miss you, come back for hugs and kisses please!”

Sypha grinned. Showtime, she thought.

---

I can feel it coming in the air tonight,
And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life,
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight?
Well, if you told me you were drowning
I would not lend a hand
I've seen your face before, my friend
But I don't know if you know who I am
Well, I was there and I saw what you did
I saw it with my own two eyes
So you can wipe off that grin,
I know where you've been
It's all been a pack of lies

-"In the Air Tonight," Phil Collins

Notes:

So we've come to it on multiple levels--the moment we've been waiting for for almost a year.
(Tries to be all moody and dramatic....effectively ruined by her high-pitched shrieking)
---
Moodboard: Vlad- Jeff Bridges, Lisa-Robin Wright, Hector - Charles Bilgrien, Trevor- Hamid Fadaei, Adrian-Erik Andersson, Sypha-unknown model from Pexels

Chapter 50: My baby she don't know me when I'm thinkin' bout those years

Summary:

Frank leaned forward, looking around before speaking. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Vlad took him aside and told him to get on with it.” He snorted. “Old man’s not happy about Belmont, let me tell you.”

Julius’ head snapped up and his skin prickled. “What do you mean, Frank?”

Frank looked uneasily at him. “You know what, nevermind Jules, I spoke out of turn.”

Julius shook his head and leaned in as his pulse accelerated. “I’m not going to say anything. You have my word. Seriously, what makes you think that? Please, I’ve been wondering about this.”

Notes:

Badly Chapter 50

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Sypha returned to the room she let herself in, calling, “It’s me!” to ensure no one was scrambling in concern.

“In here,” Adrian called back and she made her way to the bedroom, pausing at the door to smile.

They were tangled up in each other. Trevor was curled into Adrian’s chest, hands tucked between them like a tired kitten. The strength of his limbs was languid in surrender. The painter stroked his hair with one hand and cradled him with the other, a merciful angel of long, pale limbs and stunning features.

They hadn’t cleaned up, the little wet marks on the unmade bed like tears from the universe. It made her think of that painting of Jesus holding Lazurus after he was resurrected. Something sacred, peaceful and tender.

“Everyone okay?” she asked softly, almost afraid to break the spell and Trevor sniffed before looking up at her.

“Yep, he knows.” Trevor sighed. “I have no idea how you both are so okay with me literally explaining nothing, but thank you so much.”

“Hush,” Adrian admonished, golden hair tangled around his face as he kissed the top of Trevor’s head. “You’ve shared everything that matters; there is nothing more that needs to be said.”

Sypha came forward and placed her hand on the sculptor’s back. “What did I say about not having to destroy your peace for our happiness?”

Adrian looked up at her, a pleased smile playing on his pale lips. The gold of his eyes was brilliant, like a harvest moon rising. She could see the drying tears at the corner of his eyes and her heart throbbed with the hurt. Carmilla would pay for this someday, she thought.

“Well said, Sypha. I wasn’t quite as poetic but that is exactly it,” he said.

Trevor took a deep breath and then another. “Sypha, would you--could you please hold me too?” he whispered.

Until the end of time, she thought and immediately climbed onto the bed, coming to his other side and snuggling in. The sculptor’s sigh was pure contentment and she stroked his arm, gliding over Adrian’s hand that gripped his bicep. 

“Thank you for inviting me to share this with you. I needed this,” she said, stroking the skin that was so strong and so beautiful. “You are my loves.”

“I feel the same way,” Trevor said, “I don’t ever want to be with anyone else. Ever.” He looked up at Adrian, “That goes for you too, Legs.” He grinned, not quite the easy smile she was used to--it held an edge of possessiveness. “If you think I overreact to someone touching you, imagine what would happen if you decided monogamy wasn’t your thing.”

Sypha’s heart leapt. It’s out there, she thought. Not the exact phrasing but damn close. Trevor essentially just told Adrian he loved him. Would his resolve from last night still hold true?

Adrian stared at him. “First of all, I never said you overreacted. Not once. I actually appreciated what you were trying to do and I love how possessive you can be.” His hand crept to the bruises on his neck and Trevor’s exhale was sharp.

I wonder if it will always be this vital and needy between them, she wondered. Part of her never wanted it to stop. It was thrilling and powerful. But another part of her wanted them both to have tenderness for each other. It was the tenderness that helped you survive in the long run. The balance will come once the love is voiced, she thought.

The visceral physicality between them was tangible for a moment and then Adrian’s hand drifted back to his long hair. He tossed it behind his shoulder and sniffed. She could see his irritation. “Second of all, I am not a cheater; that’s absurd and offensive and--.” Trevor growled appreciatively.

“Ooooh, talk down to me, I love it,” he said playfully, grabbing Adrian’s hips and hauling him down beside them, the blonde tangles fanning out around him and Trevor rolling to cage the painter in. 

Sypha perched up on her arm to watch. The painter was doing his best to give the sculptor a repressive glare and Trevor was doing his best to kiss Adrian’s face. “Third of all,” he said loudly and she heard the nerves. “I happen to feel the same way about you. I was going to--.”

There was a loud knock on the door of the suite and they all jumped.

---

Julius was not happy. He’d handled Lord Tepes’ questions as neutrally as possible but he did not lie. Lying to your employer never worked out and besides, Vlad was incredibly intelligent. There was no point.

It was true that there was much he did not know and he answered honestly about what he’d actually seen and heard. Vlad’s questions had been good ones, but it had helped that he had not specifically asked for Julius’ impressions.

He’d waited last night for the call about the conversation between Trevor and Carmilla and it had not come. So the call this morning had not surprised him. The vague questions about whether there’d been anything unusual about the confrontation at Lindenfeld’s, or the trip, or between the trio, had. A deep apprehension had opened inside of him. 

He knows, he’d thought. Lord Tepes knows.

It’d only been a matter of time really. Too many mistakes had been made by Adrian and Trevor; Vlad was too sharp and too observant. Still, Julius grieved for Adrian. The blonde deserved happiness and Trevor clearly cared about him as a person. Julius could actually say he knew how rare that was for the Tepes heir, and how precious it must be to him.

The security agent wondered about what might happen with Sypha. He’d seen her with Trevor last night and his certainty that she was a cover for the men had weakened. When he’d stopped to consider her relationship with each man he’d felt reasonably sure that she might actually be involved with both of them.

In a way that felt more right to him to think they were a threesome, but in another, that was even worse.

If they were a threesome the possibility of the relationship lasting wasn’t low, it was nonexistent. There was no feasible way you could present a threesome as a respectable, legitimate public option for Alucard Addrinne Tepes. Even the most liberal minds would be shocked.

He had wondered whether Lisa would have any intervening power in the fall out from such a thing. It was so hard to say. Lord Tepes was dedicated to his family and adored them. But there was a rigidity about responsibility and expectation that Julius had seen put on Adrian time and time again. Each time the blonde had bowed to his father’s wishes or compromised into a virtually complete capitulation.

Still, he thought, as he exited his quarters and took the hall to the stairs that would bring him out the common rooms of the mansion, Adrian was shockingly self-possessed with his father last night. Even when the Christopher Wise thing had occurred, Adrian had been very calm. Julius winced, remembering.

He had not helped in that regard, although in his defence, he’d been trying to quietly warn Adrian that Vlad might have questions about Carmilla. When Trevor had started in on that history, the security guard had side-stepped in the only way he could think of.

How could I have known ‘Christopher’ had the loaded history it did? He thought. 

The simple fact was that he couldn’t have. It wasn’t possible. Again, Adrian had surprised him. While obviously distressed at Sypha’s reaction, the blonde had remained relatively composed and easy going, responding in a rational and calm manner.

He made his way through the vaulted archway and past the long line of weapons from the Tepes ancestry. The library door opened and Eva stepped out with her little trolley of cleaning supplies. The massive shelves groaned with books and the dark wood panelling was a stunning contrast to the teal and mint wingback chairs. He smiled at her and she nodded back with a smile of her own.

He came to the kitchen for breakfast and was plating his eggs when his phone chirped. Escort for Falcon requested, ETA 22 minutes, plain clothes, armed, minimal threat level. He accepted it automatically but was puzzled by it. He rarely escorted Lady Tepes, especially when Adrian was in the vicinity. He fully expected to be requested to accompany the trio to something today.

But ‘requested,’ that means she asked for me , he thought, wondering. Oh well. He added some fruit, bacon and a slice of toast from the spread. Other staff were coming in now, and the breakfast line was growing. He exited the kitchen with a ‘thank you’ to Louis and his team before taking his meal to the staff dining hall. Tucking into his eggs, he looked up as the solid form of Frank came alongside him.

“This seat taken?” the big bodyguard asked and Julius shook his head. He liked Frank and wouldn’t mind his company. They chatted for a moment about the football game tomorrow night and who they were rooting for. Julius was asking about Frank’s girlfriend when the conversation took a turn.

“Speaking of girlfriend, do you think that Adrian has given up on Sypha? With this Belmont guy in the picture?”

Startled, Julius looked up. “Given up on her, how?”

“You know, on working up to asking her out,” Frank gave him a look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he is with her.” Julius shoved eggs in his mouth while he debated how to respond.

He settled on a shrug. “I think he’s young. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

Frank leaned forward, looking around before speaking. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Vlad took him aside and told him to get on with it.” He snorted. “Old man’s not happy about Belmont, let me tell you.”

Julius’ head snapped up and his skin prickled. “What do you mean, Frank?”

Frank looked uneasily at him. “You know what, nevermind Jules, I spoke out of turn.”

Julius shook his head and leaned in as his pulse accelerated. “I’m not going to say anything. You have my word. Seriously, what makes you think that? Please, I’ve been wondering about this.”

Frank looked at him for a moment. “You’re worried,” he observed, eyes narrowing. “You know something?”

Julius struggled to find a way to bypass the question without shutting the conversation down. “Between us? I’ve been thinking about how big the pot is on the Syphacard matter.” He tried for embarrassment. “I thought that maybe, you know, having a rival? Sometimes that makes a man come to his senses. Thought I might put money in.”

He shrugged casually. “If Vlad has something against Belmont, and Adrian is there to comfort her when it falls apart…” he let the sentence trail off and hoped his lie would work.

It did apparently; Frank looked at him with new respect. “You know what? I’m gonna up my bet, that is sound logic and I think you’re onto something.”

Julius grinned. “Just between us though, okay?”

“Absolutely man, you got it,” Frank chewed happily and Julius tried not to drum his fingers impatiently. He had to get ready to escort Lady Tepes soon but he wanted to know why Vlad was not happy about Belmont.

“Do you think Vlad’s unhappiness with Trevor will be something he shares with Adrian?” he prompted, balancing eggs on his fork.

“I dunno. But I put two and two together last night. This was the Belmont that Soma got out of jail! Don’t you remember?”

Julius relaxed slightly. He’d heard a bit about that but it was old news. There wasn’t anything to be worried about in that corner. “I heard something to that effect, yes.”

“Yeah, well, I was there after he got off the phone with Adrian about it and the instructions he gave to Andrei made no sense at the time but now I wonder.” Frank’s eyes widened and he hushed his voice dramatically. “I think he wanted to make sure that Belmont was out of the picture from the beginning.”

Concern flared back into full force and Julius tried to temper his reaction. “Oh yeah? What were his instructions?”

“He asked Andrei to put a call into Saint about ‘the property,’ saying he needed to confirm ‘security with the assets because of a threat.’” Frank looked abashed. “I don’t normally listen, you know how it is, most of the time you tune it out.”

Julius nodded. It was true, and a good practice to boot. “But the use of ‘security’ made me tune in and rewind the convo, ya know?” Frank looked at him. “Seems like he thought Trevor was a threat before he even met him, hey?”

Exhaling slowly, Julius simply nodded again. What property was he talking about? The manor? And who were the assets? His family? “Was extra security requested this weekend?” he asked Frank.

The big man shook his head. “Nope. In fact, Vlad asked for security and staff to vacate to the north wing and gardens at 8:45 am today until orders are received to return. It’s a free break; too bad you’ll miss it.”

Anxiety thudded its booted foot into his sternum and ground in. “Really? Did he give a reason for it?”

Frank chewed and Julius reminded himself he had to eat too. The eggs were like wads of cotton in his mouth. Time was short now. “Nah,” the bodyguard said after he swallowed. “Just ordered it. You know better to question an order like that.”

“Was Andrei ordered away too?” Julius persisted and Frank shook his head.

“No clue,” Frank said and Julius checked his watch. He had eight minutes to find out. 

---

Lisa smiled as Sypha opened the door to the suite. She was a little surprised to see she was awake and had obviously been swimming. The digital artist wasn’t usually an early riser and it had been a late night.

“Just the woman I wanted to see,” Lisa said happily. “Do you have a minute?”

Sypha grinned. “Is this about the surprise?” she asked and Lisa blinked.

How did you know about that already? She wondered. “It is, but I feel like I am missing something here. Can you step out for a moment?”

Sypha gave her a quizzical look but stepped out into the hallway. Lisa gently shut the door behind her and spoke. “I felt really badly about how last night went for Trevor and wanted to do something nice for him as a surprise. Is that what you were thinking of?”

The redhead gave her an affectionate look. “No it wasn’t, but you are so darling, Lisa, really. I promise he is doing much better this morning.” There was a happy glow and a slight smugness to her next words. “The day has started out with a bang for all of us.”

Lisa resisted chuckling, not wanting to embarrass Sypha. It didn’t bother her; sex was a perfectly normal and wonderful thing. However, she was sure Adrian wouldn’t want her to know the specifics on when it occurred. For her part, she was just fine with not knowing that too.

“That is wonderful, truly,” Lady Tepes said. “Can I ask what surprise you thought I was referring to?”

“Oh, the birthday commission! Vlad texted me his plan to ask Trevor and wants me to distract Adrian while he does.”

Ah, I see, Lisa thought. Clever. “Of course, I knew about that but didn’t realize he’d asked for your help.” She smiled. “Hopefully Trevor will be flattered by it.”

Sypha nodded. “I’m sure he will be. He was absolutely floored by Adrian’s love for his art as C.Leon, I am sure that he has the same feelings for Adrian’s love for Christopher Wise.”

Lisa’s brows knit, distracted from the question she wanted to ask by a new one. “Trevor is also C. Leon?” she inquired and watched Sypha pale noticeably. Lisa felt her heart sink.

More identities Trevor? she thought. Vlad will see this as further evidence against you! A thought struck her and she closed her eyes.

“Sypha, does Adrian know about this identity?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, he does.” That was a relief for Lisa; at least there was no lies between the trio in this regard. But Sypha’s next words shocked her.

“Please don’t think that Trevor targeted Adrian for his money. It was a pure accident that he applied and received the scholarship. They didn’t even know each other at that point. He thought it was Vlad’s money.”

“Sypha, I promise you I do not think Trevor is remotely interested in Adrian’s money!” She found she could actually laugh. “I think he probably resents it at best and hates it at worst.”

Internally she was struggling for composure. What scholarship? It turned a sorrowful knife in her heart for her-- what was Adrian hiding? Like any mother she knew that the time would come where her child did not share everything with her but she grieved the arrival all the same.

Sypha’s smile was apologetic agreement. “You better believe it. Holy crap he is so stubborn about taking any help, it is painful.”

Lisa desperately wanted to ask her about the scholarship but resisted. It wasn’t fair and Adrian was entitled to his secrets. Still, she did have access to the bank account and she could just look at the trends… 

No. That was invasive. She’d never looked before, although both she and Adrian knew that Vlad did.

It was not something she agreed with her husband on but then again, she didn’t really pay close attention to their money, ever. It had never mattered to her and she trusted her husband completely. He did care about it, and seemed to enjoy the building of it as another form empire. Besides, anytime she had a question or suggestion, they always thoroughly discussed it…  Her watch chimed and Lisa grimaced, drawn out of her wonderings. “I’m sorry, I have to go but really quickly, does Trevor like boats?”

Sypha laughed appreciatively. “Great minds think alike! I was hoping we could go boating this afternoon, actually!”

Lisa grinned. “It’s a date, I’ll let Louis know we’ll need a boxed lunch and ask Philip to bring the Sperantia from the lakehouse for 12:30?”

Sypha’s eyes shone. “Sounds like a lovely plan and I am sure Trevor will love the surprise!”

“Just let him know around noon in case he needs a Gravol or doesn’t feel up to it--we can always picnic in the gardens or do something else.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m so sorry, I have to run but,” she pressed her fingertips to her lips and placed them on Sypha’s cheek. “Have a lovely morning!”

Sypha grinned. “Don’t want to wear a wet hug, huh?”

Lisa snickered. “Might make this meeting more entertaining,” she murmured as she turned to go.

---

Maria’s face hurt from crying. She’d spent all night weeping into her pillow and felt wrung out like a piece of fabric soaked in salt water and left to dry on a rock. Adrian was gay and she was such an idiot. All the signs had been there of course but like a fool she’d ignored them.

No wonder he never dated Sypha even though it was obvious she was into him. No wonder Maria never saw him at an event with a date. She’d thought it meant he was waiting for the right girl. Now she understood.

Given who he was, he couldn’t risk publicly being with a man and he had clearly been upset she’d seen Trevor try to kiss him. A small, bitter part of herself wanted to be a total bitch about it and lord it over him; make him grovel for her silence. Feel powerful instead of helpless. 

But mostly? Her heart was broken.

She’d pined for him for almost a year now. He made every other man seem like a total flop. He was gorgeous, mysterious, elegant with the kind of manners that most never bothered to use and a voice that made everything inside of her melt.

Part of the immediate attraction for her had been the fact he was a Tepes. They were powerful, fascinating and famous, but when she’d gotten to know him, she’d realized he was an amazing man as well. Kind, sweet, incredibly humble, talented and serious, he’d seemed so much older than he actually was but never treated her like a child.

Maria scowled and punched her pillow. Too many people did treat her like a child, just because of her age. It had gotten better once she turned nineteen but it still happened regularly and it was insulting. Age was just a number and certainly didn’t define her. Maria Renard was not a fool and considered herself wise to the world.

Not wise enough though, were you? her aching heart asked her and she sighed.

“I couldn’t have known,” she reminded herself. It was sinking in slowly, but telling herself that helped.

“No, you really couldn’t have,” her roommate agreed from across the room, sketching out a clothing design on a tablet.

Maria winced. She’d spilled her guts to her roomie, who’d surprised her by returning to their room while she was mid-bawling session. It wasn’t that Dusa wasn’t a great roommate or a nice person but they weren’t close enough to warrant something so intimate. She’d sworn her to secrecy, but was still embarrassed and worried about it getting out.

“It’s not his fault,” Maria said calmly and Dusa looked up.

“It’s a little his fault,” her roommate corrected. “He could be honest about his sexuality and not hide it from the world.”

Maria felt uneasy. “That’s his choice and I can certainly understand why he does. You’ve seen the media coverage over the Shaft thing, it’s nuts.”

“Yeah, that’s a fact. I would hate to be Alucard Tepes and face that.” Maria relaxed a bit. “Still, he could at least be vocal about supporting the community.”

Maria couldn’t argue with that. She knew that Dusa had faced a lot of backlash from her family when she came out, and Adrian certainly did have a lot of social clout. “Who knows,” Maria hedged instead. “Maybe he will someday soon because of Trevor.”

“Mmmm, maybe,” Dusa agreed and started at the little sunny chirp from Maria’s phone on the desk beside her.

“Can you just check that for me?” she asked, unable to find the energy to get up.

“It’s from your mom,” Dusa said, picking it up. “It says, ‘The vacation dates are set for summer break and Amelia suggested that we book the’,” she stopped. “Sorry, I have to unlock for the rest.”

“2334,” Maria said, and a moment later Dusa kept reading, ‘book the beach house that you like so much. Would that be something you’d like to do?’”

“Can you text back, ‘yes and I’ll call you tomorrow,’ please? Thanks Dusa, sorry.”

“Hey no worries,” her roommate said soothingly. “This is the pits; it’s the least I can do.”

---

Vlad sat down in his study chair and ran through what he wanted to say to Trevor. He’d heard the trio in the hallway about ten minutes ago and then Sypha’s laugh. He felt a little guilty about lying to her, but he needed her and Adrian out of the house. For extra insurance, he’d instructed the staff to leave a berth around the study as well. He did not want any rumor of this conversation to ever reach his wife or son.

He expected Trevor to be angry at first. After all, he loved Sypha. But he believed that money, reality, and the possibility of closure on his parents would ensure that this conversation went according to plan.

Vlad really believed that this was for the best, for everyone. Trevor had been through a lot and could use financial help. The carrot he was offering in regards to his family was a big one, and thanks to Saint and a few more phone calls, he was confident Trevor would jump for it. Belmont had not been in Adrian and Sypha’s life for long, and Vlad believed that he would choose long-sought closure over the emotional ties already in place.

The sounds of the household gradually faded away and he knew his order to vacate the wing was being carried out. Then he heard the scrape of a shoe outside his study door and looked up. Trevor Belmont, he thought and took a deep breath. It all came down to this now.
---

Colonel Tom, what's wrong? What's going on?
You can't tie yourself up for a deal
He said, "Hey, north, you're south, shut your big mouth
You gotta do what you feel is real"

Ain't got no picture postcards, ain't got no souvenirs
My baby she don't know me when I'm thinking 'bout those years

Pale as a light bulb hanging on a wire
Sucking up to someone just to stoke the fire
Picking out the highlights of the scenery
Saw a little cloud that looked a little like me

My memory is muddy, what's this river that I'm in?
New Orleans is sinking, man, and I don't want to swim

-"New Orleans Is Sinking," The Tragically Hip

Notes:

Bites all the fingernails!! I've got a BIG chunk of the next one written so hopefully I'll get it out to you soon! There are SOOOO many reveals in store!
---
Moodboard: Trevor-Dylan Rieder, Adrian-Erik Andersson, Sypha-unknown, Vlad-Jeff Bridges, Lisa-Robyn Wright

Chapter 51: do they ever let you go?

Summary:

“Fortunate indeed. It’s quite the feat to be accepted into the school and to afford such a quality education.” Trevor felt like there was a hidden message in the phrasing but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I feel very lucky,” he agreed and tried for humor. “It’s amazing what things cost these days, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is. I know from Adrian’s bills that art school is expensive” Vlad said, his unusual eyes growing serious and thoughtful. “I can’t imagine how you’ve afforded it.”

Trevor was trying to ignore the hard press of a boot heel inside his skull and between his eyes. He couldn’t be suggesting that I did something illegal to get there, could he? The sculptor wondered.

Notes:

It Started Out Badly- Chapter 51

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Julius was fretting over what to do. The entire wing had been ordered to leave, including Vlad’s personal assistant, Andrei. Whatever Lord Tepes was going to do was serious and the security guard was not foolish enough to think it wasn’t related to the questions he’d been asked that morning. But what could he do?

The reality of the situation was that it was already too late. Adrian never crossed his father, ever, and he’d been trying to hide his real connection to Trevor this whole time. Too bad they were both terrible at it. 

He imagined that Vlad would warn Trevor off of Adrian, in the same way Lord Tepes casually and ruthlessly threatened anyone who posed any sort of issue to his agenda or family. Julius thought about that. It was possible Vlad might be in for a bit of a shock if he tried that with Trevor.

The sculptor had been incredibly protective of Adrian in front of Lindenfeld’s, and also when he faced down Carmilla. He didn’t see that changing just because it was the painter’s father. In fact, he thought, Trevor Belmont might be the only person in the world who Lord Tepes might not be able to intimidate.

But Adrian would be caught in the middle of it, he thought and felt true sorrow. The simple fact was, intimidated or not, Adrian would not turn his back on his family or his duty. Trevor would be made to leave and the blonde’s heart would break.

Julius sighed unhappily. He cruised down the highway and wondered what was happening at the mansion.

----

“Trevor will be back soon, don’t worry,” Sypha said.

Adrian smiled at her. She was so cheerful this morning and he knew it was because she was excited. The truth was, he was too. With the secrets about Christopher Wise and Carmilla out in the open, the time was ripe for the confession he’d planned. 

The reality was that he’d been so close twice this morning but he wanted to tell Trevor he loved him when they were all together and happy. Telling him while tears ran down both their faces and the specter of Carmilla hung like a burning house between them was not what he wanted. 

But when Sypha had come back and Trevor had been laughing and teasing, the words had pushed up, dangling from his lips, just as his mother had come by to tell them she would be gone for the morning and back for lunch. Then Sypha’d made noises about the breakfast picnic and here they were. 

He frowned slightly. He’d been worried that it’d been really obvious when she’d asked Trevor to go back for her phone and then catch up with them, but the brunette had just nodded and turned back. He knew she wanted to ask Adrian whether he was going to tell him or not.

“So tell me, how are you going to tell him? Over the breakfast sandwiches, or the mimosas?” she asked him as soon as Trevor was out of ear shot.

He didn’t know but trusted it would feel right. He was sure of it now, had seen the possibility of Trevor’s love for him in the clear blue eyes and tasted it in the morning kiss. He was willing to say it first and could only hope it would make it easier for Trevor to admit how he felt too.

“I was thinking I would just see how the breakfast unfolded,” he said, “I don’t have a grand plan.”

She smiled. “Just know when the time is right, hey?” she said gently.

“Yes, exactly,” he smiled back.

They rode a couple more minutes, Sypha commenting on the spectacular view they were going to have and wondering if the manor would still look as magical as the last time she’d seen it from the ruins. He didn’t know why it wouldn’t, but he was content to listen to her.

No matter how sure he was that this would be a welcome disclosure, he was still nervous. That is the joy and terror of love, he thought, looking at Sypha in the morning sunshine. It can mean more than you ever thought, more than you will ever be comfortable with. 

She was a creature aglow in the sunlight, the cheerful yellow t-shirt and jean jumper a charming combination that somehow looked absurdly stylish with the neon pink knitted sweater. He adored her so much.

“What is it?” she asked, catching his eye.

“I was just thinking how beautiful you are and how much I love you,” he told her easily.

Sypha laughed. “Ohhhhkay, Adrian, beautiful might be pushing it a bit but I am flattered nonetheless.”

But it’s not even close to how gorgeous you are, he thought. Instead of saying it, he came alongside her and reached out, running his hand over her hair. “I know what I see, and you are beautiful.”

Sypha’s smile was gentle, dropping little flakes of tenderness that piled up around him. “You are beautiful too, Adrian.”

Unable to lean over and kiss her, he settled for taking her hand and offering a series of tiny kisses inside her wrist and down into her palm. “I love you,” she said softly, wonderingly.

“And I you,” he said with a final squeeze of her hand. “Always and forever.” He sighed contentedly and wondered where Trevor was. He looked behind them again, expecting to hear the brunette coming any moment now.

“Hey, how about a race?” Sypha asked him and her horse took off down the path at a fast trot.

Distracted, he laughed and shouted, “Cheater!” as he urged his mount after her.

---

Trevor’s knock was hesitant and Vlad took that as a good sign. Better if he was apprehensive, it would keep him off balance and hopefully receptive. “Come in Trevor,” he said and watched the brunette close the door softly behind him.

Trevor turned and looked at him. Vlad saw nerves and uncertainty. “Sypha said you wanted to see me, sir?”

Vlad smiled; an easy, welcoming gesture to bring his guard down. “Yes, I asked her to help me have a moment to speak with you.”

“Alone,” Trevor said carefully. “Without Adrian.” This time Vlad was attuned to Trevor’s inflection and there was an emphasis on his son’s name that meant something. Vlad’s suspicions about the man drifted back. 

What are you to my son? Did you convince him to turn his back on everything that matters for a fleeting nothing? He pondered.

“Yes, alone. I have a favour I need to ask of you.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “A birthday surprise for him.”

It was like a black out curtain falling from a bird cage to unveil a lively, vibrant occupant. Trevor grinned and the wariness was replaced with excitement and happiness. He strode forward to put his hands on the back of one of the chairs. “Really? What surprise? I would love to help!”

And you will, believe me, Lord Tepes thought. “Excellent! I am so grateful,” he said. He gestured to the chair and Trevor sat eagerly. “I can tell you that I would like to commission you to make a piece of art specifically for Adrian.”

There was something in Trevor’s face that struck Vlad with a slice of shame. Belmont was pleased. No. No, he was touched. “I am incredibly honored, sir, that you would ask me to make something you could gift to your son. That’s,” he cleared his throat. “A level of trust that I am humbled by.”

Thank you for that beautiful segue way, Vlad thought and casually gestured to the papers. “Speaking of trust. As I am sure you understand, my family is very private.”

Trevor nodded, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “I’d like to discuss the specifics with you but I just need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement. It’s a standard form, basically saying that you won’t discuss the details of our conversation today with anyone.”

“An NDA?” Trevor sounded bewildered. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t understand.”

Vlad smiled easily and stood. “Care for a drink?” he asked and the brunette shook his head. He went over to the drink cart and poured himself a cup of coffee before turning back. Trevor was watching him, the confusion plain on his face. 

Careful now, Vlad thought and came around to the front of his desk, putting a hip on the edge. He picked up the forms and handed them to Trevor. The sculptor took them slowly, eyes flicking between him and the papers. 

“Anytime I discuss finances with someone, they sign these,” Vlad explained. “It’s so common to me now that I forgot this might be bizarre to you. I’m sorry about that. It’s just protection really, for both of us. Basically, I can’t tell anyone what we discussed and you can’t tell anyone what I paid you.” 

He let a little displeasure show as he brought his coffee cup to his lips. “I had to learn the hard way to never do business without one. It’s the only way I can protect Lisa and Adrian.”

As he’d hoped, the mention of protecting his family did the trick. “I understand sir,” Trevor said, the confusion disappearing, replaced by fierce resolve. “This would also mean that Agent Isaac wouldn’t be able to question me about any monetary transfers that would come from our business, wouldn’t it?”

Vlad blinked but otherwise was able to hide his surprise. Trevor was much closer to the truth than he realized, but for the completely wrong reason. Admiringly, he toasted the brunette. “Yes, Trevor, precisely. You grasped that very quickly.”

The younger man reached for a pen and signed the three highlighted sections without even reading them. Your father would not have approved, Vlad thought, even as a key part of this conversation slid into place. He never signed without reviewing what he was signing, ever.

It was fortunate then, that he had not put anything in the paperwork that would hurt Trevor. Well, unless he spoke to anyone about this conversation. “Wonderful! Now, with that out of the way, I wanted to ask you if you had any ideas on what Adrian might like for a sculpture?”

Trevor smiled and put the pen back on his desk. “I am actually working on something right now that he’s seen the sketches for and was very excited by.”

“Really?” Vlad didn’t have to pretend to be thrilled. He was. Perhaps it could even be finished in time for Adrian’s birthday. “What do you call it?”

The hesitation was brief but he caught it. “Trio,” Trevor said with a soft note in his voice.

It was not essential to this conversation but Vlad had to know. Had his son truly put everything at risk for some absurd fling? Had years of instilling caution and familial responsibility really meant nothing to Adrian? Did his family? It clawed at him, ripped apart his certainty about too many things in his world, and this young man had the answers. 

Besides, if they are lovers, he rationalized, you need to be prepared to handle that too.

His thumb flexed on the coffee cup’s handle. He would find out. If it was true, it would be handled and Adrian would be reminded of what was permitted and what was not. There were calculated risks for pleasure, desire, and even happiness. Then there were four lane highways at rush hour that you played chicken on blindfolded and that was simply not an option for a Tepes.

“Interesting name,” Vlad said calmly and Trevor’s small smile was tentative. “‘Trio’ then, tell me about it.”

---

Looking at her schedule, Lisa determined she would have to ride in the front with Julius on the way home. It was the only way for her to have the frank discussion she needed.

Originally she’d wanted to ask him to sit with her in the limo after her morning meeting, but the agenda for the meeting was too big and now she needed to make sure she was back in time for the sailing. A small smile played on her lips as she remembered Sypha’s excitement.

I hope this is the right plan, Lisa thought. Both of them.

She knew it was a risk to speak to Julius about Trevor but she needed his guidance. The security guard had long been a guardian to Adrian and, while they didn’t discuss it frequently, she was well aware that he cared deeply for her son. Now that Vlad had essentially confirmed that he would never willingly accept the trio, Lisa needed to have Julius’ impressions of whether anyone at the gallery or Lindenfeld’s might suspect the men or the threesome dynamic.

If he didn’t have any prior suspicions, she was potentially leaking this matter to Julius but she doubted he was completely unaware. Julius saw a great deal and had maintained a professional demeanor with her family for almost fifteen years. She hoped that even if it was a surprise to him, he might be able to assist her with encouraging the young people in keeping a lower profile. She sighed. 

She also needed to know what Trevor might have said to Carmilla and if it was a threat to her family or her son. Lady Tepes had wanted to ask Vlad but now she wanted to avoid the topic of the scene as much as possible. She still believed that there was a possibility of her husband coming around but it had been too much too soon and now the damage needed to be undone.

She shook her head. These were matters for consideration after this meeting was completed. In the meantime, it needed her full attention. Lisa looked over the notes for her meeting carefully. The gala was an important fundraiser and she had several questions for the planner that needed answers. She was on the board of directors and this year was her turn to oversee the preparations.

The blue hydrangeas were a good option for the time of year but she wondered if there could be a more local floral choice. She made the note and then remembered that she’d had Catherine make a list of seasonal availability for the Doctors Without Borders fundraiser two years ago. She didn’t have it at her fingertips but Catherine would.

Lisa made another note. Today was her assistant’s day off and Lisa took that as sacred. She could count on her fingers the number of times she’d had to interrupt Catherine’s day off and it was always for an emergency. This certainly wasn’t one.

Two minutes later, as she was writing an email to ask Andrei for the name of the local vinter Vlad had mentioned a while back, she remembered that Catherine and Andrei shared the registry where they kept lists.

I could ask him for the seasonal floral list as well as the vinter, she thought. She checked her watch. She was 30 minutes away from her meeting and if she could confirm her options for both, then she could tick off two questions from her list. He was in for the morning, and should still be there assisting Vlad until noon. Picking up her cell phone, she engaged the call to Andrei’s desk.

It rang several times until his voicemail picked up. That was odd, but maybe he was in with Vlad. She would wait a couple of minutes and try him again. Hanging up, she went back to her notes. 

---

“It sounds like ‘Trio’ would be perfect, Trevor. I am so excited to see it and to see Adrian’s reaction to it.”

Pleasure flooded the sculptor and he tried to remain as coolly elegant as Lord Tepes was. It was astoundingly difficult given how giddy he was over the conversation. Vlad had been warm, kind and respectful. He couldn’t believe his good luck that somehow the evening before hadn’t ruined the older man’s opinion of him. 

His phone buzzed and he ignored it. Lord Tepes paused and looked at him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could you just make sure it’s not Adrian? I don’t want him to surprise us.”

“Oh! Right, of course!” he said and checked his phone. There was the reminder for his voicemail, he really needed to do that, and… “Good catch sir, he’s wondering where I am.”

“Text him please, and tell him Julius wanted to have a word. You’ll have him drive you out in a minute and you’ll meet them at the church. I can ask him to once we are done, and that should give us enough time.”

Trevor didn’t want to be driven, he wanted his horseback ride. However, planning Adrian’s surprise was far more important, so he sent the message. When Adrian wrote back that they’d come back for him, he texted, “No, please don’t, I’m literally right behind you and I want to see it.”

It was a surprise when Vlad leaned over, clearly looking to see the screen. “What did he say?” There was a little edge to the words but he just chalked it up to Vlad not wanting the surprise ruined.

He showed him the screen and Vlad smiled. “That’s perfect, thank you.” Trevor resisted the unease that crept like cold toes under a blanket. It didn’t make sense. Lord Tepes was simply concerned that Adrian might stumble upon the surprise plans.

“While we are on the topic of finances, I wanted to tell you how much I admire your determination to make your way in the world. It cannot have been easy but you kept going.”

The unexpected praise dazzled him. Despite himself, Trevor felt the fragile hope solidify just a little more. Maybe someday Vlad might accept him as Adrian’s partner and not just his friend. Someday.

“Thank you sir. It’s been difficult but I am fortunate to be where I am.”

“Fortunate indeed. It’s quite the feat to be accepted into the school and to afford such a quality education.” Trevor felt like there was a hidden message in the phrasing but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I feel very lucky,” he agreed and tried for humor. “It’s amazing what things cost these days, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is. I know from Adrian’s bills that art school is expensive” Vlad said, his unusual eyes growing serious and thoughtful. “I can’t imagine how you’ve afforded it.”

Trevor was trying to ignore the hard press of a boot heel inside his skull and between his eyes. He couldn’t be suggesting that I did something illegal to get there, could he? The sculptor wondered.

“I believe you mentioned martial arts as a means of earning money. I can’t imagine that paid for it all.” Vlad’s face was solemn but somehow expectant. “Other than your art, was there any other financial support available to you?”

Trevor suddenly understood what was happening and it wasn’t what he’d feared. The relief was enormous, even as dismay scuttled in. So Vlad wanted acknowledgement , he thought, disappointed. It’s a small thing. I can do this. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t have eventually said ‘thank you’ anyway.

“Yes sir, I’ve wanted to say thank you for the support, actually.” Trevor exhaled slowly. “I was under the impression that the money came from Adrian, but I know that the money in his accounts comes from you. So thank you for your generosity."

Vlad went very still and when he spoke there was almost no inflection in his voice. “Wait, Adrian is paying for your tuition?”

Trevor could feel the mood in the room sour. “The Tepes scholarship. I won it, sir.” This looks bad, he thought with mounting panic as Vlad’s jaw flexed. I need to explain this. 

“Before I ever met Adrian or Sypha, I applied for the Tepes scholarship. To be completely honest, I thought it was just something you bequeathed to the school and was determined by committee. Completely separate from your family, like a charitable donation; a tax write off.” 

He forced himself to slow down his words. He’d sped up with every sentence and it made him look guilty. It’s fine, he thought. Just tell him the truth. There was nothing underhanded about it. “It wasn’t until after I met Adrian and Sypha that I found out the money came from him. That he personally selected the winners.”

“The winners,” Vlad said and Trevor felt despair at the cold, remote words. Everything had been going so well and now it was falling apart. Because of who he was. Because all his family would ever be known for was doing anything for money. I am not them, he wanted to scream, and yet every time it matters, people only ever see them in me.

"Yes sir, the winners. As far as I know, there have been five, myself included.” I’m the only one who would give it back if I could, he thought desperately. Anything to convince you that I don’t give two fucks about his money; I just want him.

Vlad jaw worked. “How much did he give you?”

Trevor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was obvious that Vlad thought he wasn’t really Adrian’s friend and he was some sort of hustler. The commission had likely been a test to see if he would use Adrian for more income and press coverage. If so, he is pretty sure he just failed horribly. 

Pride was his refuge because the truth was, he didn’t want money. He wanted Adrian. “I’m not my parents,” he said quietly and Vlad arched his brow. “I am not for sale, and I would never pretend to be Adrian’s friend for influence or money.”

He forced himself to meet Lord Tepes’ eyes, the maroon eyes filled with a banked heat that burned him, peeling away his hopes for any acceptance whatsoever. He forced himself to finish, to try to say something that would allow Vlad to understand. 

“It was an accident, or fate, or whatever you want to call it, that he—you—gave me money. It’s all gone to the school anyway, but I give you my word, I am not with him because he is a Tepes.”

“With him,” Vlad said, and there it was, as sharp as the filaments of a broken lightbulb ripping open your palms. The rage, the rebuke, the absolute venom of denial. Lisa’s words clawed at him. Your true relationship with him is something that needs to be introduced slowly to the world and to his father.

Oh fuck, the sculptor thought, even as anger and grief twisted in writhing agony in his chest. “With him as a friend. Through Sypha.” The lie burned his throat like a sickly tumor.

Vlad was silent for a moment and then he took a sip of his coffee. “Do you love Sypha?” he asked so calmly that Trevor’s jaw dropped. He struggled to understand what was happening, but at least he could be honest. 

“With everything I am. She is my heart, and knows me better than I know myself.” 

Vlad nodded. “Yes I can see that.” He sighed. “I always thought Adrian would be the one for her. There’s a connection between them that is deep and true.”

No shit, Trevor thought glumly. It’s there for all of us. It made him wonder if Lord Tepes really couldn’t already see the trio for what it was. Who’s lying to whom? He pondered. 

Vlad met his gaze. “I had hoped for that connection to manifest romantically.” The sculptor said nothing. He was in the way of such a thing of course, or at least Vlad thought so.

“Do you see what’s between them?” the older man asked.

Trevor felt his temper flaring. Father or not, Vlad was asking questions that were undeniably invasive, and this whole thing was incredibly presumptuous. Next thing you know he’s going to offer me money to—

“How do you feel about their relationship?” Vlad continued.

Trevor felt a smirk start and struggled to suppress it. He thought about watching Adrian gasp against her hands as he whispered he loved her. He remembered the feel of the painters hand cupping her as Trevor’s dick slid between his splayed fingers. He felt the phantom sensations of the painter moving inside her as she spasmed around both of them.

Trevor took a deep breath. He needed to stop thinking about this or his dick would answer Vlad for him.

I feel like the luckiest man in the world , he thought, but knew it wouldn’t make sense. 

“I respect their relationship. He gives her things I can’t and I would never interfere with that.” He held Vlad’s gaze and felt the pride and certainty in his own words. “I, on the other hand, I give her things that he doesn’t. She loves us both. It works well and no one is unhappy.”  

All of that was true, he thought optimistically , and I didn’t have to lie. Now let that be the end of this, before I lose my temper.

“What would happen if they were to act on their connection?” Vlad asked. Trevor felt his anger tip into dangerous territory, and decided it was time to understand what this really was about. So he asked.

“I’m sorry sir, and I mean no disrespect, but what are we doing here? What do you want from me?”

Vlad brooded over the rim of his glass for a moment and the weight of his thoughts were tangibly heavy in the atmosphere. He abruptly nodded. “I respect a man who isn’t afraid to cut to the chase. I will respond in kind.”

Trevor was slightly mollified. At least Vlad was willing to admit he had an agenda and get to the point.

“I was concerned about what you are to my son. There is no possibility of a romantic relationship between the two of you without serious repercussions. The world is progressive but the expectations for someone in his position are very clear. He needs a wife and a family.” 

Trevor was willfully fighting his temper. These were all things he was aware of and was struggling to accept. Hell, these were all things he had thought of already. 

Vlad shrugged. “But I believe you love Sypha, and it is very apparent she adores you so I am not concerned.” He smiled, “In fact, I wish you well with her.”

The abrupt shift left the sculptor floundering and he nodded. 

“I’ve insulted you now,” Lord Tepes gave a rueful twist of his lips. “That was not my intention, I apologize. Perhaps it is simpler if we go back to what I was saying before we became sidetracked. I understand that Adrian has helped you with your tuition and I am pleased by that. He speaks highly of your work and I respect his opinion.”

Trevor literally did not know what to say.

Vlad folded his hands on the desktop. “That being said, I would like to help you. Financially.”

And Trevor finally clued in to what Vlad was doing. He’s trying to buy me off, he thought and his temper started smoking like meat left too long on the grill.

“What do you want in exchange for ‘helping me’?” he asked, mouth dry as his fury worked its claws into his jugular. 

“I’m asking you to stay out of the limelight with Adrian.” Vlad said simply. “No more public associations, no more scenes like the art show, and no more YouTube videos of fights with federal agents.”

"You don’t want me to be seen with him in public? Not even with Sypha?” Trevor closed his eyes. Fury and grief were huge, hot stones falling into icy water to churn up clouds of steam that smelled like despair.

Vlad spread his hands, face apologetic. “You have a lot of baggage, Belmont,” he said gently. “I know that it’s not your fault and your parents weren’t at fault, but it’s inescapable and we can’t afford the association.”

Trevor fought the shame that twined around the anger and tried to be reasonable. Wounded pride was a bad look for him and he knew it. He needed t—

Wait, what ? he thought abruptly.

“Did you know my parents?” He asked, looking up.

“No, I’m sorry, what gave you that impression?”

“You did,” the sculptor said softly. “How do you know my parents weren’t at fault?”

Vlad brushed it off. “I’m assuming, based on your obvious defense of them.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, a gesture so like Adrian when he was nervous that Trevor inhaled sharply. “You said something to that effect,” he continued. 

Certainty flared. He’s lying. I never said that and his tell is showing.

“I never said that they weren’t at fault. In fact, I always believed it to be true.” Isaac’s voice whispered in his ear and Trevor asked before it was even thought out. “You paid enormous sums of money to them and it wasn’t legitimate, was it? What do you know, Vlad?”

---

Adrian looked at his phone and his sense of unease deepened. “Sypha, didn’t Mother say that Julius was driving her?”

“No, she didn’t but he was helping her out the door when I came down the stairs,” she glanced back at him, the horses picking their way along the path. "That's why I said he was."

“Trevor said that Julius wanted to talk to him. But if you saw him with Mother, shouldn’t he be driving her?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said and he frowned.

“I don’t want him to be grilled about last night,” he said. “Not by Julius but especially not by Father. He already asked too many questions.”

Sypha stopped her horse and turned around in the saddle to look at him. “What questions did he ask you?” she asked him, eyes on his face.

He heard it in her voice and saw it rising in her eyes. The trepidation was more than just concern over the questions.

“Sypha, what’s going on?” he asked her and she bit her lip. Somehow that tiny action was more alarming than if she’d started screaming.

“Maybe nothing but now you’ve got me worried,” she said, as she turned her horse back toward the manor. “Tell me what Vlad asked you.”

---

Lisa tried calling Andrei again and got his voicemail. That’s very odd, she thought and decided to call the house directly. It rang three times before Sergei picked up.

“Hello Sergei, it’s Lisa. I can’t seem to get a hold of Andrei, is he in with Vlad?”

“No Lady Tepes, he’s actually right here with me. One moment please,” he said.

Why is he with Sergei? She wondered. It wasn’t that it was impossible, just unusual. Normally Sergei and Andrei would consult in the afternoons when Vlad had meetings and calls to attend to. If they were together in the morning, it could mean an unexpected and urgent event that needed planning or, in rare instances…

“Lady Tepes,” Andrei’s voice came on the phone. “My apologies for being unavailable. What can I do to help you?”

Lisa explained the need for the lists and Andrei hesitated. “I beg your pardon, but how urgent is this matter?” he asked.

“Not incredibly,” Lisa said. “But it would make my meeting easier.”

“Of course. It’s just that I don’t have access to the registry right now. Lord Tepes requested privacy this morning.”

Lisa was confused. Privacy for what? “Did he have any calls or visitors in his schedule?” she asked him. Vlad hadn’t mentioned any to her over breakfast but then again they’d… 

Oh my God, oh no, no, no! Lisa thought as alarm spilled cold and sticky like melting ice cream through her body.

“I assume so, given the request,” Andrei said and she cut in, her voice sharp and concerned.

“Andrei, was there anything on his calendar?” she asked, hoping against hope that there was something, anything, on there other than the conversation that Sypha said she was going to help her husband with.

“No madam,” Andrei said and Lisa hung up without even saying goodbye. Pressing a button for the intercom, Lady Tepes spoke to her guard.

“You must turn the car around and get back home immediately. Something is happening.”

The bodyguard’s normally calm voice was clearly relieved when he said, “Yes madam, something is happening and I am so grateful you are going back.”

Lisa’s apprehension soared. “Julius, floor it. And while you are at it, tell me what you are talking about.”

---

Do your demons, do they ever let you go?
When you've tried, do they hide, deep inside
Is it someone that you know
You're just a picture, you're an image caught in time
We're a lie, you and I
We're words without a rhyme

-“Rainbow in the Dark,” Dio

Notes:

Oooof, here we fucking gooooooo
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Also, I am immature enough to love that this has 69 bookmarks hahah, bless.
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And last but not least, it's officially been a year of Badly and I am just a puddle of happy goo that this has been so well received and enjoyed. Thank you to each and every reader who gave this a chance.
A particularly special thank you to armouredescort, without whom this fic would have been like, four chapters long, lol. (So thank you and also this is your fault.)
---
Moodboard: Vlad-Jeff Bridges, Trevor-Hamid Fadaei, background from Unsplash -photographer Pawel Czerwinski

Chapter 52: How soon is now

Summary:

How do I know if any of this is even true? He wondered. How can I trust it?

“You always have another plan, don’t you Father?’ The painter asked. Trevor couldn’t decipher what was in his voice and his hand ached from holding the armchair so tightly. He tried to relax, tried to be calm but Adrian had never felt so far away as he did now, only three feet from his hands.

What does he think of all this? Trevor wondered and knew that whatever the painter’s thoughts were, they were agony.

Notes:

It Started Out Badly Chapter 52

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Adrian knew something was wrong when Devora met them on the edge of the property. The wolves were never far from his mother or father. The unease deepened as he saw Andrei, Sergei and three other security personnel patrolling the edge of the house.

Adrian,” Sypha said quietly and he nodded.

“Text Trevor please. Nothing alarming; just in case this isn’t related.” Sypha pulled out her phone and gave the Friesian his head. They slowed, not breaking through the treeline yet. Adrian didn’t want to attract the attention.

“He’s not answering,” she said with worry. Like a drop of food coloring into milk, the panic plumed, grew and spread.

I don’t know what this means but it can’t be good, he thought. He urged the horse into a trot. Andrei turned toward him with a look of surprise. He looked down at his phone quickly and his fingers moved. Then he looked up with a smile.

"Master Tepes, we expected you’d be gone a while yet. Did you forget something?”  He asked politely.

I forgot that my father is clever and driven, the thought smashed against the wall of his composure. I forgot that he will do anything to protect the Tepes legacy and he is very good at hiding his thoughts from the world. I assumed my answers were enough for him and I should have known better.

“Trevor, actually,” he said, dismounting. “He got caught up talking to Julius.” Conte sauntered over and nudged his leg. He automatically put out his hand to ruffle his fur. “What is going on?”

Andrei smiled. “A private meeting. Nothing to worry about.”

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t you be in the meeting though?” He looked over and realized that there were more staff sitting in the gardens. He jerked, looking back at Andrei.

“He cleared the floor?” he asked. But he already knew. “Son of a bitch!,” he hissed as he whirled toward the main entry door, grabbing for Sypha. When his hand closed over her wrist, he felt the goosebumps.

She inhaled sharply and trotted beside him, whispering urgently. “You don’t think—?” 

“I do Sypha, yes, I do, and if we don’t stop this—” he muttered back. If we don’t stop this Father could ruin everything. Trevor doesn’t stand a chance. He’s still fragile from Carmilla and this might break him. If Father pushes, if he tries to find out what the history is… Trevor might tell him, he might accidentally let the trio slip and then, oh God, then it would be a showdown and I am not ready, I am not ready for this...

One of the security team was standing at the door and she shook her head apologetically as he strode up. “I apologize Master Tepes, but Lord Tepes was very clear he was not to be disturbed.”

Something was building in Adrian. It was fear but it was also anger. He’d asked his father not to approach Trevor. He’d asked his father, so many times, to respect his decisions and to let him live his life in peace. Yes, Vlad loved him but it was so clear, so achingly, poignantly clear that his father still thought he could control him and Adrian would simply bow to his will.

I am tired of being treated like everyone else knows better, he thought. I am tired of my father not respecting my choices. I am tired of this bullshit. I am Alucard Addrinne Tepes and I am about done with this. His head came up and he straightened, dropping Sypha’s arm and stepping forward. He looked the security guard in the eye. 

“You have exactly five seconds to move out of the way or find new employment,” he said with complete calm.

“Sir, I can’t—“

“One.”

“Please I’ve been given a direct—“

“Two.”

“Andrei, could you?”

“Three.”

“I’m truly sorry but—“

“Four.”

Andrei touched her shoulder and she gave him a relieved look. His father’s assistant looked at Adrian warily. “Sir, respectfully I think—“ 

“Enough,” the blonde said sharply. He rotated slowly and took in the entire company. No one spoke and no one moved. Adrian didn’t know it but at that moment, he was every inch his father’s son. Most importantly, they saw it.

Sergei’s mouth was hanging open and the two men behind him had shocked expressions. Good, the painter thought. It’s time to pay attention.

“Everyone. I will say this only once. You will step aside immediately or I will personally fire each and every one of you, regardless of my father’s wishes. I am the heir and you will obey my command.” 

He turned back to Andrei. “Now move.”

Andrei moved. 

Sypha followed him in. The moment he shut the door she exclaimed, “Good lord that was hot as fuck, but Adrian please tell me you don’t think your father has Trevor in ther—.“

They heard Trevor shouting and everything inside of Adrian merged into protective certainty. He took off at a dead run. “No, no, no, please not this—!” The blonde chanted under his breath.

Sypha clattered behind him as he rounded the corner and slammed his shoulder solidly into the door. Bursting through, he stumbled into the middle of a room so thick with emotion that it burned his eyes. 

His father stood behind his desk, palms on the surface and leaning menacingly. He was coldly furious and when he snapped his head up to see Adrian, there was resignation and determination. His son couldn’t worry about what it meant, he was too busy searching for Trevor.

When he saw him, Adrian caught his breath.

Trevor stood behind the armchair and it took him a moment to understand why. The sculptor’s fingers were digging into the back of the chair and he clung to it like it was a wall between them. Because it was, Adrian thought, Trevor’s afraid he’ll hurt him.

The tension in his lover’s body was painful and Adrian absorbed it like the impact of a baseball through a glass window. It was far worse than he’d feared. Trevor’s face was bright red and he was almost panting with fury. The muscles in his arms flexed as he crushed the upholstery. When he turned to the blonde there was nothing but betrayed rage.

“Tell me you didn’t know, Adrian!” Trevor whirled to him. “You better fucking tell me now, or I swear—“

“Know what?” The blonde asked, looking back and forth between them as his heart pitched like a ship in a storm.

“Vlad knows something!” Trevor hissed, the words pulling war machines filled with accusation.

Why did your father give them such vast sums of money, Alucard?  Isaac’s calm statement reverberated like the wail of a lost child in a gully through his heart.

Oh my God, no, he thought and looked at his father.

“Your friend is making some very presumptuous accusations,” Vlad growled, not meeting his gaze. He reached for his mug. It was the slight tremor that told his son.

“You do know something,” Adrian said in a whisper as the universe fragmented. Everyone in the room jerked.

“He said my parents weren’t at fault,” Trevor said, eyes searching over Adrian. The painter felt every blink of his eyelids like a bullet.

You would believe that I could hide something like this from you? He thought, feeling the bridge that he’d believed they’d constructed to each other snap and rupture like an exploding heart.

“This is absurd,” Vlad said with a sniff and took a sip of his beverage. Trevor snarled and abruptly quieted when Adrian held up his hand. His eyes never left his father.

To say that Adrian’s heart was breaking was to say that the sun was warm and that was all there was to know about it. The intricate complexities of what was happening inside his own skin was something he couldn’t even begin to process. But it didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was giving Trevor the answers.

“I wonder,” he said softly, “If I were to give Agent Isaac access to all our bank accounts—,” Vlad jerked, his eyes flying to his son’s face. “What might he find?” 

It lay as a genuine threat between them.

All the accounts were joint between Vlad, Lisa and Adrian. It was a safeguard and had been in place since he was eighteen years old. They both knew he never touched them, never even looked at them, but he could have full access in a heartbeat if he wanted.

“You would open up our private affairs to the FBI?” Vlad’s face grew coldly suspicious. “For him?” He jerked his head to Trevor.

“Yes,” Adrian said. Without even thinking twice, he added silently. Every inhale was poison aerosol containing the certainty that his father was hiding something. Every exhale a plea that whatever it was, he could survive. That this would not be the end of everything he held dear.

“He deserves the truth, Father.” He paused.“I deserve the truth.”

Vlad scoffed. “The truth is that the Belmont’s were forgers.” Out of the corner of his eye, the painter saw Sypha take Trevor’s hand. He ached to do the same. “I merely said that they weren’t at fault because Trevor had said something similar. I thought they were good people because I did a bit of business with them at one point. That’s all.”

“A bit of business would not have drawn the attention of the FBI,” Trevor hissed. “It wouldn’t have involved Adrian’s personal accounts, or explained why the funds were untraceable.”

My personal accounts? Adrian started, his thoughts racing. I was implicated in this? He looked over at the brunette and wondered exactly what else Trevor had been told by Isaac that he hadn’t shared. Why he hadn’t shared it. What that might mean.

Vlad waved his hand dismissively. “You expect me to remember every detail of business transactions that took place over a span of twenty years? Come now."

Twenty years?! Adrian felt everything inside of him spill out like invisible vomit. He took a calculated risk. “Twenty years worth of transactions? Yes, I do expect you would remember that. What did you buy?”

Vlad’s eyes flicked to him. “Pieces of art; I told you.”

Suddenly Adrian was so tired. It weighed on him, numbed him, and he felt like a tiny acorn dropping endlessly toward a forest floor that would smash him when he finally hit it. He knew it was coming but the falling kept happening.

He was tired of the evasion. He was tired of not knowing if this would mean Trevor would leave him and tired of trying to be polite, reasonable, respectful. I want some fucking answers, he thought and prepared to beat his father at his own game.

“Fortunately for you,” Adrian said smoothly, composing his face. “I have the Tepes Collection Archives saved to my phone. I reference them all the time. Let me refresh your memory.” He pulled the page up and went to the advanced search. He typed in “Belmont” under the acquisition category. Nothing came up.

“Ah, look at that,” he said with mild surprise. “There is no record of the Belmont gallery having ever acquired anything for the Tepes collection.”

“Motherfucker!” Trevor said violently and Adrian couldn’t look at him.

“I believe what I purchased were gifts. We didn’t keep them so they wouldn’t be in the archives. I know that two were for the RRG, as I’ve already said.” His father shrugged casually. “Like I said, it was over twenty years. How could I possibly remember it all.”

“But you remember that every item you purchased was a gift,” Adrian deadpanned back and his father just looked at him. Vlad’s face betrayed nothing and the painter’s last hope died.

He already accepted that this would break him; it was just a matter of whether there would be anyone left that the blonde could hold onto at the end of this. His family, his lovers, his own identity; it was all on the precipice of destruction because the depths to which his father was lying could only mean one thing.

“Did you have the Belmonts killed?” Adrian asked with deathly calm, unaware that he was horribly pale.

His father looked shocked and slammed his mug down. The coffee splashed all over the tabletop like dark tears. “How could you think that?!” He roared and Adrian simply stared at him. “That’s ridiculous and offensive and I—”

“If you don’t tell me what exactly was going on between you and the Belmonts right now, I am calling Mother and asking her,” Adrian said. The effect was immediate. Vlad flinched like he’d been struck and sat heavily. 

Adrian made himself move to the chair across from his father, opposite the chair which Trevor was using as a shield and behind which Sypha waited. He sat, and crossed his legs. Use what he taught you about the media, he coached himself. Show nothing, give nothing, feel nothing.  

Deliberately, he brought his hand to his neck and pressed the bruise hiding under the fabric. I love you more than you will ever know, Adrian thought as his heart wept. The slight pain and the reminder of his love kept him tethered to reality.

“I am waiting, Father,” the blonde said and heard Trevor’s breath catch. 

I do this for you, he thought. And for me and for whatever future we might have had. I would give you this peace, even if it means I lose you. 

“You make it seem so sinister!” Vlad protested and raked a hand through his hair. “It really isn’t, it was just... I just—I would spare Belmont the details because they will only confirm that his parents were criminals.”

You would spare yourself only. Because you are a criminal too, aren’t you? Adrian thought furiously, but simply shook his head.

“He is a man, Father, he can decide for himself.” Adrian said quietly and heard Trevor sit. He could not look at the sculptor without becoming hysterical.

“Tell me,” Trevor said, emotions running like a frantic herd of wildebeests through his words. The two words were a death toll for any possibility of love, and Adrian knew it.

“There isn’t much to tell!” Vlad said. “It started before you were born; I wasn’t yet thirty! I’ve always been interested in family history. I was appointed to the committee for art heritage and we were in the midst of the Gozer case at the time.” Adrian nodded.

“What’s that?” Sypha asked and Vlad started slightly, like he’d forgotten she was there. He stared at her and for the first time, Adrian saw fear.  

Of course it would be for Sypha, the painter thought with only slight bitterness. In a way, he could understand it. Disappointing Sypha was one of the hardest things to do. 

Adrian answered for Vlad. “It was a landmark class action in art recuperation. During World War 2, there was a great theft of Romanian art from Jewish families and our national museums. Billions in art, simply gifted to Hungary. Or so they called it. A gift.

The injustice of it still stung his national pride and his sense of integrity. “There are meticulous records on the event and the transfer and historical documents showing the original owners and where they were distributed.” His eyes were on his father. 

The sickening sense of mounting dread was pulling the coattails of fear over him but he kept talking. “The case was considered a sure thing. A carefully crafted, thoroughly documented lawsuit by the Romanian government against the Hungarian National Museum and a couple of high-profile collectors. It was a textbook case of war crime profiteering. That the museums and private collectors could hold the cultural wealth of my country was an obvious wrong that everyone was positive the courts would rectify.”

His father’s face was grim as Adrian finished. “When the case was thrown out, it was a huge blow to Romania and our pride and our heritage. It was a huge blow to the Jewish community and the art community.”

“Yes,” Vlad said, pride and fury in his tone. “It was during my work at that time that I discovered Mathias Tepes’ journal. My grandfather. In it, he talked about art works and belongings that had been taken when he was driven from his home. He made lists so that he could find them and get them back. Family heirlooms, birthday gifts, wedding gifts, even a locket with his mother’s hair.” The righteous anger on his face was plain.

“He never had a chance. He sent Elisabetha ahead of him to safety and never made it out alive.” The study was silent for a moment before Vlad spoke again. “I never knew the journal existed; my father did not speak of it. It was a godsend. I used it to trace hundreds of heirlooms, including several artworks that belonged to my family. Some I could buy back. Some…,” he trailed off.

No, Adrian thought, heart sinking. He suddenly understood exactly what his father had done. How ironic, the blonde reflected, that art would be the reason my life is falling apart.

“The legal system refused to provide justice to my people, who were slighted and cheated and stolen from. So I decided to do something about it.” His father’s gaze was defiantly proud.

“You stole them back,” Adrian said tonelessly. “And the Belmonts helped you.”

Trevor inhaled sharply and against his will, the blonde’s gaze slid to his beloved. The sculptor’s grip on the chair looked painful, his knuckles white and hands shaking from the tension. Sypha had her hand on his shoulder and was looking at him. Trevor leaned forward, piercing blue eyes locked on Vlad. 

“My parents weren't forging for money? They were trying to...do the right thing?"

It crushed him to hear the hopefulness in Trevor’s voice. It was such a precious, cautious thing that rolled impossible boulders of grief onto his chest.

Please give him this Father, the painter begged silently. Give him the answers he needs to be at peace with this. Let the hatred he will have for the Tepes and for what we stole from him be worth it.

“Yes, Trevor,” Vlad’s voice had gentled. “As I said, your parents were good people. They understood the injustice of what had happened to Romania and the importance of having our history returned to us.”

But you didn’t mention tracing and retrieving other family’s art, just your own, Adrian thought, eyes narrowing. He had no illusions about his father anymore. If Vlad had resorted to stealing and forging, it had been for purely selfish reasons. He never would have risked exposure for anyone but himself.

The scandal would only be risked for the Tepes art, he thought bitterly. Not for any of the families who couldn’t actually afford to sue, and forge, and steal, and— 

When the thought struck, it was the dig of fingers into a wound that was too fresh. No, oh my God, no. You told the Belmonts that it wasn’t just for you, didn’t you?! He thought. “You didn’t steal anything back but the Tepes art,” Adrian interrupted, the words like grave dirt falling from his mouth. “Did you?”

Vlad’s face transformed from open understanding to something closed and guarded, like a drawbridge had been raised. “You have to understand,” his father began in a lecturing tone. “The risk, the expense, the—”

Adrian surged to his feet as disgusted outrage overflowed him. He looked at the man he’d once admired, the person he’d yearned to be, and always felt inadequate beside. You liar, he thought. You horrible, cowardly, self-important--!

“You fucking hypocrite!” he said. “You would sit there and spout all this bullshit about the importance of cultural history but this was about you and your damned pride!” He seethed, words he never would have dreamed of saying this morning tumbling out as though they’d waited their whole lives. 

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Vlad barked back, face incredulous with outrage and shock. He slammed his fist on the desk. “You act like I tricked them into it! They approached me!! This was a wrong that needed righting and a worthy cause! To return the history of the country to its rightful—”

“Oh fuck that!” Adrian shouted over him. “You weren’t going to let something as stupid as the law get in the way of what you wanted! So you dragged Trevor’s family in--!”

“Stop,” Trevor said. 

It was quiet but forceful and froze to the painter’s skin like he was naked in an ice-tipped rain. Adrian stilled, holding his breath. Trevor’s gaze was hooked into Vlad so intently that the blonde could swear he could see the filament of fishing line between them. 

“My parents. The forgeries that they did--all of them--they were to replace artworks wrongfully stolen in World War 2 and return them to their rightful owners? That is why they committed fraud?” Adrian could see him working it out. “They were trying to rectify what the courts would not?”

Vlad smiled and Adrian hated his father. Hated him for his pride, his hypocrisy, his bullshit justifications. But mostly, he hated Vlad for doing this. For damning his future with Trevor before they’d even had a chance. For twisting the fates of everyone involved and closing off so many futures because he couldn’t accept ‘no.’

“Yes, Trevor. Your family was incredibly honourable and understood what needed to be done. They wanted to reclaim for my country what had been stolen from them. This is why they were forging.”

You lie, his son thought, this was a reclamation for one family alone. I know you too well and you would only risk something like this for yourself.

“Tell me Father,” Adrian’s voice was cold and dripping with scorn. “Which pieces were reclaimed that belonged to someone other than a Tepes?”

“That is not the point!” Vlad growled. “It would have happened eventually, I just needed more time and they—“

“You lied to them, didn’t you?” Adrian hissed, his secret fear suddenly confirmed. “Did they know that it was just your art that was being taken back? That you were happy to let the rest of Romanian history rot in the hands of strangers as long as you had yours back?”

“I did not lie! I fully intended to take all of them back but plans changed! The risk grew with every piece we reclaimed and the expense was incredible! I had to make a choice! It wasn’t intentional and it wasn’t—“ His father abruptly cut off.

“It wasn’t what?” Trevor asked, voice soft. There were dead rooms inside a cobwebbed house creaking open their doors. They beckoned Adrian to disappear into the darkness in Trevor’s voice. There was no hope there for anything resembling the life he thought possible only hours before inside of it.

This is my death shroud, he thought. The funeral to the love I could have had in the trio.

Vlad inhaled deeply and exhaled. “It wasn’t devious,” he said quietly. “None of this was. Not on their part and not on mine.” He looked at Trevor and there was something… something sad? “They were amazing people, Trevor; people I cared about and called friends.”

“Yes, they were,” Trevor said, something like grief doused in love and set fire with wonder blazing in his tone. “What went wrong?”

Vlad’s hands curled into fists and he shook his head. “That is very complicated. You have to understand, it’d been decades. We weren’t the same people who’d started this as idealistic youths. Dominic wasn’t the same man who’d asked me years ago if I would like the chance to make it right. We had families now, and the risks…”

“They wanted out, didn’t they?” Adrian asked, the dread so thick that he could feel the clench of it rising in a fist under his ribs. The fist opened, ripping out everything like a child making a jack-o-lantern.

“They wanted out, yes,” Vlad said, shaking his head. “So did I, actually. But there was a problem.”

Trevor rose slowly and stared him down. Vlad met his gaze with pride and bravado. “You didn’t.” When Trevor spoke, it was toneless, emotionless. It was a split second of silence before the opening maw of hell swallowed everything.

“Didn’t what?” Vlad asked warily.

“You didn’t ‘solve the problem’ by having them killed. Tell me you didn’t. Did you?”

“No!” Vlad said with obvious disgust and resentment. “Why the hell does everyone in this room think I would kill them?!”

“Because you would do anything to protect what you love.” 

All the men stilled and slowly turned. Sypha stood there like an abandoned toy on a playground. One hand clutched the back of the chair and the other rested on Trevor’s shoulder. Tears were rolling down her face and her eyes were pleading.

“Please,” she whispered and Vlad looked down at the desk, jaw working.

“It’s very simple really,” he said after a moment and Adrian could hear the plea. It would always be Sypha that brought that out of him. “The middle man, the one who swapped out the paintings. I...made a mistake with them.”

---

Trevor was afraid. Temper would have been better. Temper was easier, cleaner; a familiar friend to him. But this was a deadening creep now, a scythe that was swiping strips of his hope away like grain falling under the blade.

Adrian will never forgive me for this, he thought desperately.

Trevor understood now why the painter’s parents were so important to him. He had been welcomed into the circle of their love and felt the warmth of it. Even in his own house, he’d never felt so accepted as he had in the last 24 hours. There was something precious here and for a brief moment, he’d had too.

It was all falling apart in front of him and it all hinged on what happened with his parents. How many times in his life would this continue to be the case?

“And what mistake was that?” Adrian asked, in that awful, devoid voice. Trevor shivered. As much as he wanted to know, needed to know, his heart was bleeding with every syllable held in the painful emptiness of his lover’s voice.

“I told them why we were stopping. I told them that the Belmonts didn’t want to continue and that I would not be funding it anymore. That was fine. My mistake had been providing the full list to both them and the Belmonts. They knew there were still paintings out there, and they had the known locations for the ones that we’d located.”

The silence was profound and he waited for Vlad to continue, Sypha’s warm hand on his shoulder.

“The middle man had been a mutual decision. The Belmonts had used someone else previously but I did not know them, and besides, Penelope was sure they couldn’t handle the sheer scope of what we wanted to do.” Trevor tried not to flinch at the mention of his mother but Sypha’s little squeeze told him he wasn’t completely successful.

“We needed someone that would understand what we were doing and why. They had to be trusted and available to work for years,” Vlad sighed. “Which grew into decades. Obviously we were looking for an organization. Crimson Stone was my choice. They were ex-Securitate officers, and I thought, being Romanian…”

“Do you know the name?” Trevor whispered, the absolute rage and hope scratching inside of his brain like a crazed wolverine trapped in its own den. “The name of the person who killed my parents?” 

Give me a face to destroy, a name to pin all this torment on, he thought. Let me know that after all this time I can look them in the eye, and know who took everything from me.

When Vlad’s eyes met his, he could already see the sorrow. You don’t, he thought, moments before Lord Tepes confirmed this for him. “But you know that Crimson Stone was responsible?” he whispered and Vlad nodded.

“How could you?” Adrian asked, the jagged edge of ice slicing through the conversation. “You knew your friends had been murdered, murdered because of you! And you did nothing?!”

Vlad looked at him and there was such fury etched into his face that Trevor actually tensed. “You, boy; have no idea what you are talking about. I protected our family. I ensured that this whole sordid affair never came to our door. Crimson was going to come for us and I--.”

“You made sure they didn’t,” Sypha said quietly. Her tears had dried and her face was wooden.

You had them killed, Trevor thought but he needed to know. He had to know his parents had been avenged. “Are they all dead?” he asked. “Every last one of them?”

Vlad’s gaze shuttered and he inclined his head in affirmation but did not speak. “Yes,” Sypha spoke again and this time there was a fierceness to it. “You would have made sure. No one would come after Lisa and Adrian.” 

Lord Tepes offered her a nod and there was an understanding that seemed to pass between them. Sypha squeezed Trevor’s shoulder and there was an old, tired, worn creature of grief that sighed deeply within his heart. 

My parents' murderers are dead and I know it now, he thought. The creature settled aching bones down and closed its eyes. It wasn’t gone and it wasn’t sure what to feel, but it didn’t have to be on guard anymore. 

Vlad cannot possibly know what it means for me to have this. As much rage and agony was contained within this conversation, having this even fact alone meant he was prepared to listen to the rest.

“Why did they care that there were still paintings out there to acquire?” Adrian asked and Trevor looked over at him. The painter sat stiffly, a still porcelain angel guarding a tomb. 

A tomb to what he believed about his family, Trevor thought, miserable. A grave that my family helped to dig.

You know that they are dead now, his heart whispered. The justice you needed has been given. What can you give him to have the same sense of relief? 

Did Adrian need to hear the rest of this? He was obviously devastated by these revelations and by the realization that his father had participated in criminal activity. Trevor could only understand that too well. What can I possibly give him to soften the blow? He pondered, even as Vlad answered the question.

“There was still money to be made. You have to realize, we are talking millions of dollars left on the table and they thought I would still pay if I could be persuaded.” His mouth twisted in fury. “They knew I still wanted them and I think they thought if they just...," he swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Those paintings... One in particular… It was the one I wanted the most.” His smile held no joy and for a moment, Trevor could see remorse.

My parents deserve your grief, Vlad, he thought. They deserved to be mourned.

“We’d been looking for years. It wasn’t even supposed to exist, we thought it'd been destroyed. There was no record of it, except for a letter written from the painter to Mathias that he mentioned in his journal and then… It was uncovered in the 2012 Gurlitt find and its existence was revealed. I only found out because of Penelope. She was called in for authentication and she knew.” He trailed off. “She knew.”

“What was the painting?” Trevor asked, curious despite himself. 

“It was a painting of a garden and a woman bent over at the waist. The sun is shining and there is a distinctive, low stone wall in the background. You can’t see her face, she could be anyone.” Emotion crept into Lord Tepes’ voice. “But she is my grandmother and she is weeding her garden in the summer sun.”

“Elisabetha?” Adrian asked softly. “Wouldn’t that make it obvious who it belonged to?”

Vlad shook his head. “No. The title was 'A Lady With Her Flowers,' and was a wedding gift from Mathias’ sister. A rather famous friend had painted it for her.” He sighed. “There was no mention of a Tepes claim anywhere but this letter. And I didn’t even have the letter, just Mathias’ references to it in his diary.”

His face was filled with a sad despondency and Trevor could feel the weight of these secret griefs burdening Vlad. “We talked about how to approach it, and whether to make a claim. But the sole source of information I had was the diary.” Vlad straightened. “I could not risk sharing it.”

Because you’d already started collecting the other artworks mentioned inside of it, the sculptor thought. Collecting them in an illegal, fraudulent operation. And if you surrendered the diary for authentication someone might notice the pattern. 

It was the thought of a pattern that made him broach the topic.

“Did my uncle know?” Trevor asked. The possibility that his uncle might forgive him if only he knew, if only this wasn’t his fault, was a sweetly tantalizing lure.

“Yes. Dominic mentioned that Theo Belmont was part of the forgery team but in what capacity was never clear to me. I didn’t ask but I did get the impression he painted.”

He did paint, Trevor thought. Extraordinarily well. “Did he know that they were murdered because of this? Did you talk to him? Did he know about you?”

Vlad shook his head slowly. “No one knew about me. Not even you. That was a condition of this. No one could tell their families.” He glanced at Adrian. “Which would only become a true issue later.”

“Does Mother know?” the blonde asked and the aching throb of fear was so real Trevor tasted it on his lips. 

Please not Lisa too, Trevor silently begged. Let Adrian keep that part of his heart intact, please.

Vlad straightened and leaned across the desk. “No, and she absolutely can’t.” He raked his hand through his hair, the action the first obvious sign of distress this entire time. Trevor was not surprised it was for Lisa.

“You have to realize how much danger even knowing this puts you in! You have no deniability on this matter now,” he looked at Trevor and shifted his gaze to Sypha. “None of you do, and with this Agent Isaac out there--.”

“Why not tell him?” Trevor interrupted. The lies, all of them; it was exhausting. Anyone could see that. Isaac wasn’t unreasonable and maybe... “Admit it all off the record, and see what he wants you to do.” 

He thought about the intensity of the agent's face when he talked about the case. “I think he just wants to know, more than anything. It’s what I wanted. There is no one to prosecute now. Crimson Stone is dead.”

Vlad put two fingers to his forehead and rubbed in a weary, irritated gesture. “Surely you must see how absurdly naive that is. There is absolutely no way that is possible. I would be handing him everything he would need to completely destroy the Tepes legacy and take everything from my family.”

But he might find it anyway, Trevor thought. Isaac will not give up. But maybe that in itself was a warning sign. No one could predict what Isaac would do and the risk was huge to Adrian and his family. I won’t endanger Adrian, he thought. That was not a question for him.

“And what about the Belmont legacy?” Adrian asked softly. “What about Trevor’s future? If people knew that they’d been forging to replace stolen artwork his family would be perceived incredibly differently. He would be perceived differently.”

That you would think of that; that it would matter to you in the midst of all of this, Trevor thought. You are the finest man I have ever known. But the cost is too high for your family and I will not accept it. I have lived through the decimation of mine and I won’t watch it happen to yours if I can help it, his heart vowed. Besides, no one would care about the one time the Belmonts forged for a good reason; they’d been committing forgeries for--.

“Wait a minute,” Trevor snapped out, his mind swerving over the rapidly building implications. “The newspaper article that exposed the forgeries... they said Belmont frauds were hanging in galleries across the globe. That the forgeries had been happening for over 200 years.”

Vlad steepled his fingers and looked at him. “I don’t know how long it had been happening, but I was not the first.”

“We need to speak to this reporter,” Adrian said firmly. “And I cannot believe you haven’t already done that. You would have wanted to know who his source was, if any of it could--.”

Vlad held up a hand to stop him. When his son fell silent, he spoke. “I was his source.”

The shock was a sudden crush of emotion and then temper, the constant companion that Trevor struggled with, broke through with the fury of a beehive under attack and he leapt up. “But why ?!That article crucified my family! It destroyed my life; it made me hate my parents! Why!

“I panicked when your parents were killed!” Vlad snarled. “I was half a world away, woken in the middle of the night by photos of dear friends who’d been tied--”

“Father!” Adrian said sharply and Trevor’s heart fractured like a thin scum of ice on a puddle under a falling stone.

“Did they suffer?” he whispered and Vlad would not meet his gaze.

Oh Mama, he thought as the agony of it burned down into his belly. Dear Papa. I am so sorry. If only I could have told you just how sorry I am. I hope, wherever you are, you know it.

“I had to make things up as I went,” Vlad continued. “I had some threads in place as a safeguard, but I fully admit that if I’d been completely logical, I would have handled it better. For the forgeries, I needed to establish a pattern because it would be suspicious if it was too recent.”

The ghostly whisper of his mother telling him that someday he might be proud of them rose up and pushed over the grief. “You chose 200 years though. You. Why would you completely tarnish the entire legacy of the Belmonts? You could have been gentle; you could have left something for them, for us to be proud of. Instead you told this reporter the Belmonts were in league with the mob!”

“There was a reason for that,” Vlad said simply. “It was a protective measure."

“It sure didn’t feel like it!” Trevor hissed, and Adrian cleared his throat.

“You knew that the courts would take everything once the mob was mentioned. The FBI would be involved! Who did you think would--,” Adrian paused and there was a note of reluctant understanding in his voice.“You were counting on that. You trusted the bureaucracy to chase its tail while you dealt with Crimson Stone.”

“Yes,” Vlad said calmly. “Although not just that. It also put pressure and scrutiny onto the actual mob itself. When they discovered that a rival organization had acted in their name, and had been blackmailing the Belmonts for funds using their names as cover…” Vlad spread his hands and smiled.

It was brilliant, Trevor thought. It squeezed Crimson from multiple directions. That didn’t stop the furious resentment from festering. “You misled the mob on Crimson Stone." Trevor stated flatly.

“I don’t know what happened,” Vlad said smoothly and with a touch of smugness. “I just know that there was an incredible amount of paperwork that suggested that Crimson Stone was using the mob as a front for their own operations and somehow that paperwork made it back to the mob.”

Paperwork you already had? Trevor wondered. What were you planning to do with it? Were you always going to sacrifice Crimson Stone, or was it just a contingency? The worst part, the part that had been niggling in the back of his mind finally found its way to the forefront.

How do I know if any of this is even true? He wondered. How can I trust it?

“You always have another plan, don’t you Father?’ The painter asked. Trevor couldn’t decipher what was in his voice and his hand ached from holding the armchair so tightly. He tried to relax, tried to be calm but Adrian had never felt so far away as he did now, only three feet from his hands.

What does he think of all this? Trevor wondered and knew that whatever the painter’s thoughts were, they were agony.

“When it comes to my family and our future? Yes. I do.” Vlad’s voice was firm and proud. He looked at Trevor. “I had to mention organized crime for my plan to work. I needed the murder of your parents to become an issue of federal jurisdiction. Then there was, of course, a scramble on who would hold the assets. Specifically the bank accounts, which were not unsubstantial.”

“That’s all well and good,” Sypha said tightly. “But you left Trevor alone and penniless. Did you know about that?” Her hand on his shoulder trembled once.

Vlad stilled and met Trevor’s eyes. The intense sincerity of the maroon depths was impossible to miss. “No.” Vlad said. “I truly believed that you were with your extended family. What happened to you was a mistake, and I am honestly so very sorry it happened.”

“Are you, Father?” Adrian asked quietly. “Or are you just sorry that it’s come back to haunt you?”

Vlad’s eyes flicked over to his son and Trevor could see his jaw clench. “As I said, I’ve made mistakes with what happened. I wish it could have been any other way.”

Trevor believed he was sorry for what happened to him. He wasn’t sure where that left them, but he did believe that part. As much rage and grief and pain this whole enterprise had cost, if Vlad was telling the truth, there was a certain amount of peace in it for him. The shattered pieces of his parents were coming back together. There were still flaws and still parts he was not proud of but they were not the complete strangers they'd become when he'd read the article.

It would take time for him to process it all but there were already jagged pieces of grief and shame that were easing out of the crevices they’d been rotting in. What was important now was how to protect Adrian from this mess. “So what do you plan on doing about Agent Isaac?” he asked.

“Yes, Father,” Adrian asked tightly. “How do you intend on restoring Trevor’s belongings, and inheritance, and family, and life to him, now?

---


I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way?

I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home and you cry
And you want to die

When you say it's gonna happen now
When exactly do you mean?
See I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone

"How Soon Is Now?" The Smiths

Notes:

Passengers, please remain seated until this story come to a complete stop. This is for your own safety and well-being, because it sure as shit is not slowing down yet.
---
It is fitting to me that we tip over the 250,000 word mark on this chapter. Thank you to each and every one of you for your readership, your kudos, your comments and your invaluable encouragement to get us to this pivotal chapter!
---
Moodboard: Sculpture with snake- Pexels, Vlad model - Segurança Rodrigo, Pinterest

Chapter 53: Through broken walls

Summary:

Reading about Mathias and the transcripts of his meetings, a grudging respect formed.

The man was well-spoken, principled and passionate about resisting involvement in the war. Mathias’ arguments were subtly brilliant and Isaac could read between the lines his attempts to bide time and seek assistance from like-minded countries.

He knew what was coming, the federal agent thought. 

Notes:

It Started Out Badly-Chapter 53

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Isaac had spent the better part of the night following his hunch before driving home to his apartment. He had taken the unprecedented step of getting the day off. He needed to think.

Everything he’d determined suggested that the Belmonts were specifically forging WW2 artworks. There were no indications or records showing that they tried to pass the forgeries off as newly discovered, or as having survived assumed destruction. From everything he could surmise, they’d just quietly replaced the originals.

Many of the forgeries were only discovered accidentally when the story broke and people panicked. Whole droves of artworks that had been brought to BiG for restoration or routine authentication, were tested and reassessed. 

Isaac suspected that anyone who didn’t have their Belmont artworks tested or reviewed might be harbouring forgeries currently undiscovered. Otherwise the number of forgeries was so small that it simply didn’t make sense. Why would they risk so much when their legitimate business was as successful as it was?

It was in wondering this, that Isaac started to think about the involvement of the mob.

What if there were paintings out there that had been replaced but were never recorded as coming in contact with Penelope and Dominic in the first place? The forgeries that had been discovered were connected to the Belmonts because they’d been in their possession at some point. But what if there was art that was undocumented as having been at the Belmont International Gallery?

There would be no way to track when they were taken without records so he wouldn’t be able to compare the bank statements he had with the timeframes for when the paintings were last authenticated. There was no definitive way to tie the Belmonts into the crime in that scenario. It would be perfect for them, and the mob could handle the resale of the asset.

It was perfectly logical.
Until it wasn’t.

What made Isaac doubt the whole scenario, was the originals. What happened to the originals and why was there absolutely no indication of any of them ever showing up again?

All the forgeries that the Belmonts had made had the original art listed as “whereabouts unknown.” The mere existence of the forgeries themselves had meant that if the originals had shown up for sale, they’d be contested as the fakes!

Even if someone would possibly consider buying the original after verifying it was the real deal, they could never resell the artwork or recoup their investment because it would be tantamount to confessing to a crime. So who would bother?

He had a theory on this, but it wasn’t comfortable. It upended several assumptions he’d had about the Belmonts themselves, but most importantly, about why they’d become involved in crime.

It had started when he read about the process of reconstituting artwork. 

The complexities of proving ownership was a nightmare in so many cases. The money, time and energy that families had to commit in the hopes that the person holding their family legacy would consider returning it, was patently absurd. There were court case decisions that were all over the map about it too, so at the end of the day nothing was guaranteed.

Isaac’s sense of justice was offended. It was so obviously wrong and horribly frustrating. But closer to home, it struck a nerve for him. It was his own history that made him start to wonder if he wasn’t coming at this from the wrong angle.

What if the assumptions on why the Belmonts were involved were wrong? What if it wasn’t about money but about principles? 

It made a certain amount of sense to him. But when he looked into the Belmont family, there was nothing that would suggest why they’d be so sympathetic to the plight of those attempting to reclaim their heirlooms, that they would risk so much.

He thought back to the interview with Trevor and his certainty that the boy had known, but not for long. The grief had been so fresh. It wasn’t just for their death but seemed to hold deep pockets of torment too. As though they hadn’t just died but his belief in them had died too, he thought. 

Isaac stretched in the morning light and stepped back from his notes. He’d pinned neatly typed papers up on the wall of his exercise room and had been affixing post-it notes of his thoughts as he looked over them, sticking the reminders as questions and plans had brewed. 

Tapping the one that said, “Jewish ancestry?,” he resolved to make some tea and tackle Google once more.

Armed with black chai in a simple earthenware mug, Isaac set upon Google for the Tepes family tree. He found what he was looking for almost immediately. It was considerably further back than he would have thought, but Judaism had been practiced in the Tepes clan. 

It was not a popular religion in Romania and the articles he found talked about how there was distrust and persecution for many centuries. Perhaps that is why it was difficult to locate any definitive confirmation of the family’s religious affiliations by the time Vlad’s grandparents, Mathias and Elizabetha Tepes, were married.

He did locate an article indicating that there was a legal ceremony for their wedding and a private ceremony for the family. He could not find anything that would confirm whether religion was a part of the private ceremony. 

It would make sense, he thought. If they didn’t want to be overtly public about their religious beliefs.

There was a notation about Mathias and Elizabetha travelling during 1942 amid the unrest in Europe. Meticulously tracing that back, Isaac hit upon a goldmine in the Royal Romanian Archives. Reading about Mathias and the transcripts of his meetings, a grudging respect formed.

The man was well-spoken, principled and passionate about resisting involvement in the war. Mathias’ arguments were subtly brilliant and Isaac could read between the lines his attempts to bide time and seek assistance from like-minded countries.

He knew what was coming, the federal agent thought. 

When he reached the order for Mathias, Elizabetha and their son, Mikhail, to be captured, Isaac’s heart sighed. He didn’t want to empathize with the Tepes family but who couldn’t? It was a nightmare and even those in power were caught in the crush of death.

Isaac tried to ignore the immediate empathy he had. These are Vlad’s grandparents, he thought. So young, he never would have even known them.

There was a series of missives that detailed the capture and transport of Mathias Tepes from his home in Romania towards the border for extradition to Hungary. His crime had been ‘violations under the Law for the Restoration of the Professional Service of the Country.’ 

Fancy way of saying ‘we don’t want you in a position of power anymore,’ Isaac thought. Sure enough, Mathias had died in transport, apparently while attempting to escape.

The intuition that had served Isaac countless times before, sat up and nudged him. Certainty pulled up a chair beside intuition. He printed out two of the missives which noted that Elizabetha and Mikhail had not been recovered and stated that the Tepes holdings were considered intact. 

That bodes poorly for the Tepes’, he thought. Their wealth was considerable at the time.

Elizabetha died only five years later, without ever being about to return home, despite the war being over. Their properties had been seized and redistributed widely. There was a series of reports from Mikhail and his grandparents trying to record the extensive holdings and losses, but even Isaac could tell there were huge gaps.

Mikhail remained with his grandparents but was able to return to Romania in his early teens. Some of the indisputable property of the Tepes’ were returned but as far as he could tell, there would have been huge losses. As he made his way through the archives to present day he encountered a statement made by Vlad Tepes to the media regarding something called ‘the Gozer Challenge.’

It is a travesty that in this modern day and age we can continue to allow the evils of the past to impact the families and victims who have suffered. There is clear, indisputable proof of ownership in this case and yet, due to the law having not caught up with the crime, Romania remains barren of her culture and pride. There has not been justice here. The law has failed an entire country.

Isaac looked at the accompanying photograph of a much younger Vlad Tepes and saw the passion in his face. This was a man who would consider justice to be paramount. This was a man who might see the possibility to give it back to his country and risk everything for it. 

For better or worse, Isaac could understand that. After all, every time he put on his shield that was what was behind it.

He printed the photograph and the quote and took it back to his exercise room. Pinning it up on the wall, beside the newspaper photo of Dominic and Penelope he took a moment to ignore the case and evaluate his impressions.

They’d have been young. Passionate. Idealistic. Justice had been denied but maybe they could do something about it. Maybe there was a chance to make it right.

Rather than resisting his empathy to that concept, he let himself fall into the emotion. It would help him make the connections. It wasn’t a crime, it was resistance. It was a rebalancing of the scales.

But how did it start? He wondered. Who replaced them and how did they manage it? How long did it go on and where did it go wrong?

Did Vlad have them killed? He thought. Isaac looked at the printed photo again. Somehow it felt wrong. That would be an injustice in an enterprise that had been all about correcting an evil. So are you saying that Vlad Dracula Tepes might have been a better man than you thought possible?

He looked at his notes again. “What about Lisa?” he asked aloud. He was fairly certain that Alucard did not know anything simply because he’d have been too young to be involved by the time the Belmonts were murdered. But the wife…

Lady Tepes , he corrected. Calling her ‘the wife,’ seemed disrespectful to a woman that he actually held a great deal of respect for. 

All his research about Lady Tepes had indicated a woman of incredible principles. Graduated from highschool at fifteen. Entered an accelerated Bachelor's program that she completed just shy of nineteen. Mid-way through her advanced medical degree she interned with Doctors Without Borders and met Vlad Dracula.

But didn’t abandon her own goals, he thought again. She finished her degree with a modified internship and still volunteered one month a year to Doctors Without Borders until Alucard was born. Then she switched to supporting them through fundraisers and committees. She never gave up the dream, only allowed it to evolve.

“But would she support this? No matter how you look at it, it’s a criminal enterprise,” he said. Even if I might understand it, he finished silently. Isaac wasn’t ready to say that part out loud. He needed to keep perspective here.

I don’t know if she knows, he thought. But you’d think that the finances would give it away. His eyes drifted to Vlad’s photo again. This is a man who would consider justice over cost. If this is about justice, there would be no money back into the accounts. He would have lost money, not gained it.

Would she have noticed? He wondered. Would anyone?

Frustrated he picked up one of the weights and hefted it, thinking. He couldn’t access Tepes’ bank statements to check and see if there were deposits that would indicate any sales. There hadn’t been any money from the Belmonts to the Tepes accounts but if it had been filtered through the mob there wouldn’t be.

There would be one other way to know, he thought suddenly. Does he still have the originals?

---

- March 2014 -

Vlad so rarely allowed himself to completely lose his composure. This whole time, through the last twenty four hours, he’d held it together. Kept his self-control through the horror of the phone call in the middle of the night and the sickening violence in the photos sent to his phone. 

He held onto his temper through the furiously hissed conversation with the calmly deadly voice on the phone that told him that they’d found a new forger and the loose end that was the Belmonts had been ‘snipped.’ They hadn’t gotten the boy but Vlad was sure he didn’t know, correct? 

The rush to confirm this. He couldn’t save his friends but he could save their son. As sure as I am that mine doesn’t, he thought again. And never will. It had been a mistake to mention Adrian. If he hadn’t been working so hard to keep his emotions locked down he would never have.

Vlad keyed the code in for the loft and stepped into the space. Sunlight poured into the living room and he could see Saint had put a checkmark on the calendar last week. He must have been storing some acquisitions. He put a checkmark on today and moved into the living room.

It boiled under Lord Tepes’ skin; the same blinding inferno of fear and rage when the anonymous voice on the phone had commented that it had better stay that way. As though Vlad was a dog they could tell to sit. 

The ice that had formed like a bridge to certainty was only thickening as he remembered the voice commenting that wasn’t Adrian in Paris right now? It was such a dangerous city at night. “They have to be stopped,” he said aloud. “They will not touch my family.”

His hand shook as he laid his cape on the couch. His suit jacket followed and then his shirt. He went down the hall and stopped at the bathroom for a hair tie. Vlad could not look in the mirror. 

Look at them, the voice said as his phone chirped. He didn’t. He couldn’t. We will tell you when it’s done. In the meantime, you will pay and you will keep your mouth shut. You have so much to lose Vlad, don’t you?

He touched the notes in his pocket. Everything he’d told the reporter was written on them. Vlad needed to review them, to make sure he had covered every eventuality and left nothing unexplained. It would get incredibly messy from here on out and he had to protect his family.

But for now, he thought as he opened the bedroom door with his key and stepped inside. You may fall apart. He locked it behind him and stepped toward the vault door.

By the time he’d finished unlocking the door the shaking was so bad that he could barely tie his hair back. Not yet, he told himself. Get the door closed.

The paintings greeted him like silently accusing witnesses. The lights came on automatically, each spotlight like another slash that gushed bloody grief. The one of his son and the Belmont boy glowed under the last spotlight. I am so sorry Trevor, he thought. I will protect what is left of your family.

The door swung shut with a pneumatic hiss. “I cannot bear this,” he whispered as the blood roared in his ears. “I cannot bear it.” He said louder, picking up the chair in the corner that he used to sit and look at his paintings. Feel proud, feel happy, feel– “I cannot bear this!” he roared, swinging it at the door. It connected with a bone-jarring thud and a distinctly wooden crack.

He started to scream and beat at the steel door with a rapidly disintegrating chair. The only eyes that saw him lose control were painted. There was no one alive who could hear or witness Vlad Dracula Tepes when he allowed himself to grieve.

---

Carmilla rose early despite having worked out much of her plan late into the evening before. She needed to buy a pay-as-you-go phone and set up a new email account from it. But first, she needed to stop by the Ainav Gallery.

The placards in the window made her sneer. Belmont’s art was trash and belittled her own. That inept moron Hector didn’t know what he was doing and despite her strong objections, Edgar had been clear that the show would go forward as billed.

She schooled her features into pleasant ones. Revenge, that would have been sweet enough. But Trevor was a liability now. He knew who she was and, while she was sure he would not be telling his precious Tepes’ what he’d done with her, she couldn’t risk anyone ever connecting Braila to Carmilla Styria.

If her plan worked, there would be revenge, silencing, and even some fame connected to her name and art. It will work, she thought, it depends on male pride and stupidity. It’s a sure thing.

The little bell tinkled as she entered and moments later Hector appeared. The soft, eager to please fool who was as malleable as a string of spit dangling from her mouth. Excellent.

“Hector, how lovely to see you!” Carmilla said with a warm smile. She put out her hand to him and he took it. She couldn’t stand touching him longer than necessary, his hands were warm and clinging.

She took them back with a gesture toward the gallery. “I came by to see the setup of the art with Christopher Wise before the opening, I am curious what clever arrangements you’ve made!”

The truth was that she’d left very specific directions, but she could play to his ego if she had to. Men never could get enough of ego bolstering.

“I followed your requests on height, lighting and grouping exactly, “ Hector assured her, voice calm and soothing. It felt patronizing and she snarled internally. The artistic director would never have talked that way to another man.

“Ah thank you, so kind of you.” She accepted the offer for something to drink and ordered bottled water. While he retrieved it, she went down the hall and was enraged to see Belmont’s trashcan orb dominating the space and edging her art out.

“That’s Christopher Wise’s work, as you know.” Hector said conversationally, passing the water over. “We actually just sold it last weekend.”

“Oh that’s so nice,” Carmilla managed through clenched teeth. “It’s very big; it’s nice that someone had the space in their backyard.” Toward the compost heap, she thought with nasty satisfaction.

“I don’t know where Adrian Tepes intends to put it but it would look magical in his backyard, I imagine,” Hector said thoughtfully.

“Did you say Tepes?” Carmilla asked him slowly, brain in overdrive.

“Yes, he bought this and the sculpture behind it.” They walked together around the large sphere to the mod-podge heap of scrap on a pedestal behind it. 

What a piece of shit, Carmilla thought with disgust. He’s got to be the best lay in the world for Tepes to pay for that garbage. Once again, she wished she could remember, but he’d failed to make an impression on her. Not a surprise, really. Men’s standards would always fall short of hers.

“I’m really looking forward to meeting Christopher,” she said cheerfully.

“You are?” Hector said, surprised. “I mean, that is wonderful. As I have mentioned, I think you and Christopher will get along very well.”

Not fucking likely, Carmilla snarled internally. Externally she smiled charmingly at Hector. “I am very excited to meet him.”

Careful now, she thought. “Given that Adrian Tepes is clearly a patron, do you think he might be attending?”

Hector’s smile was satisfied. “I was informed Friday that the entire Tepes’ family will be attending.”

Carmilla feigned delighted shock. Inside she was worried. Either way, Hector was such an idiot and he couldn’t tell the difference. “Oh really, wow! That’s just incredible! Have you reached out to the press with this information?”

Hector’s smile was small and she could tell he was a little off-put by the comment. What? She thought. I can’t expect you to think of everything, you’re hardly competent.

“I have, although the Tepes’ have requested vetting of all the press on the site. It’s standard, according to Edgar.”

Carmilla looked thoughtful and asked the most important question. “Are they planning on vetting everyone who comes to the opening?”

Hector nodded seriously, “Oh yes, absolutely. It’s a security matter, especially with Vlad in attendance and not one I take lightly either. Although technically it’s Edgar’s realm, he was in complete agreement with me.”

“Good to know. I guess even the appetizers need to be vetted when it comes to celebrities!” She laughed.

“Oh, hahah, no, I mean; the caterers are bonded and insured. We only use the best Carmilla, you know that.”

“Huh, that’s true. I guess it saves some time then.”

Hector nodded sagely and Carmilla felt satisfaction bubble up inside of her. That’s how she would get Shaft in. The kitchen was right beside the room that the Ainav used as a green room for the artists on opening nights. There was an exit right beside it too, usually so an artist could slip out to smoke without mingling.

Have him wear the caterer’s black and carry a tray, and he’d slip right by, she thought.

“Do you think it would be alright if I left a change of clothes in your office?” she asked. “I was thinking of doing a costume change after the opening discussion. I want to be theatrical to start but more elegant to finish.”

“Of course!” Hector said happily. “What an inspired idea!”

“How wonderful,” Carmilla purred. “I’ll drop my suitcase off on Thursday then?” 

---

Lisa asked Julius to pull into the underground parking. If Vlad had asked everyone to vacate the floor she did not want to be announced to him. She was absolutely furious with him but that could wait. Right now, she had to get to Trevor and stop her husband from intimidating him.

I have to stop Trevor from confirming Vlad’s fears too, she thought. Or it will be all over, and I don’t know how that will end.

If she was lucky, she might even be able to spin this into something positive with her husband. If Trevor held his ground, if he refused to be intimidated, that would be something that Vlad respected. Eventually he might even be able to see it as confirmation of Trevor’s integrity and trustworthiness.

But first, I have to see how far this has gone, she thought anxiously. 

She’d already called to cancel her appointment, offering her apologies but explaining that a very close friend had suffered a personal loss and she needed to be with them. The planner had been incredibly lovely and Lisa felt bad lying about it.

But this is more important, she thought. And I cannot tell her the truth.

“Lady Tepes, if I might be so bold as to suggest it?” Julius said, glancing at her through the mirror.

“Yes, what is it?” she asked him.

“You may want to consider retiring to your private quarters and allowing the staff back into the house. They will talk if this goes on much longer.”

Of course, she thought gratefully. Bless you.

“Julius, I really do not know what I would do without you,” Lisa said warmly. “That is an excellent point and I think there has been enough rumors abounding about Trevor, haven’t there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. He parked the limo and hopped out of the vehicle to get her door but Lisa was already opening it.

“Sorry, I just want to get up there as soon as possible,” she said as she got out.

“No, please, go,” Julius said urgently and Lisa strode away, toward the elevator.

“Please bring my bag to my study,” she tossed over her shoulder and heard him say yes loudly.

The elevator could not move fast enough for her and she found herself tapping the railing with uncharacteristic impatience. The moment felt enormous and she returned to her worry about what exactly Vlad was doing. He’d told her he would talk to Trevor but about the commission. Was he using the commission as a gateway to a conversation about his relationship with Adrian?

I promise I won’t say anything he doesn’t want to hear. He’d promised her that. Vlad kept his promises. So what were they talking about?

The door opened and she stepped out. Her heels clicked on the marble and she stopped immediately, wrenching them off and carrying them in one hand. Crossing the space, she went down the hall towards Vlad’s study. There was no question that was where they would be.

When she came to the end of the hallway it opened into the big foyer and she could hear raised voices. Oh no! She thought and raced forward, only to stop abruptly. It was Trevor’s voice, but…

“... crucified my family! It destroyed my life…why!”

What? She thought, confused. What are they–

“I panicked when… were killed!” her husband's voice cut sharply through the door. “I was half…woken in the middle…photos of dear friends who’d…”

The stillness of the world was absolute for Lisa at that moment. The pattern of the light on the floor. The fringe on the carpet that was flipped under the edge. The sound of her own breath. It caught in an agonized hold that squeezed everything precious in her life out like a tube of toothpaste smashed inside a fist.

“Vlad?” she whispered soundlessly and the sound of her own brokenness was awful. Beloved?

“Father!” her son’s voice, horrified and furious, broke her reverie, and she started violently, almost dropping her shoes. Carefully she laid them down and stepped toward the study door.

Each step stripped her of all the assurances she’d had about who she was and what her marriage was. She could hear Vlad talking now about forgeries and the Belmonts and the mob and her legs just gave out. She sank to her knees like the door to her husband’s sanctum was an altar she was begging forgiveness from.

She couldn’t cry. She wasn’t even angry. The shock was too great and she simply could not believe what she was hearing. This was some bizarre fever dream and in a moment she’d be kissed awake by him and they would laugh over such a strange play that her brain could conjure. He would look at her and tell her he would never lie to her like that. He never could.

“You always have another plan, don’t you Father?”

Adrian, she thought dully. He sounds so angry, so bitter. How did he know about this but I didn’t?

“When it comes to my family and our future? Yes. I do.” The rich tones of the man she’d loved for almost three decades sounded like the wail of disaster sirens to her.

He does, he always does, Lisa thought, even as Vlad talked about assets and federal law. We always come first, he always makes sure, he–

“That’s all well and good,” Sypha’s voice made Lisa gasp. “But you left Trevor alone and penniless. Did you know about that?” She sounded so heartbroken and angry that Lisa felt her own temper stir. Sypha adored Vlad. Whatever this was, he’d disappointed her too.

Of course he did Lisa! Her brain started functioning again. Obviously he was involved in what the Belmonts did, and in what happened with them! No wonder he disapproved of Trevor so much! No wonder he was so adamant that Adrian couldn’t be with him! Every moment they were together these secrets were waiting to come out!

Anger was chewing its way through grief now and the words she was hearing were starting to find purchase. Lisa took several deep breaths.

“As I said, I’ve made mistakes with what happened.” Her husband said carefully. “I wish it could have been any other way.”

But it could have been, she hissed silently. You could have told me. We could have tried to make things right. You could have kept your promise!

“So what do you plan on doing about Agent Isaac?” Trevor asked and Lisa surged up.

No, she thought. No more decisions on your own Vlad. You’ve absolutely ruined everything with your bloody decisions and you are not going to do it anymore.

“Yes, Father, how do you intend on restoring Trevor’s belongings, and inheritance, and family, and life to him, now?” Lisa could hear the venom in her son’s voice and used it to strengthen her own determination. She could do this and she would, for all of them. She could grieve later.

We will make this right, she thought resolutely. No more secrets and no more lies.

Brushing a hand over her hair, she put her other hand on the doorknob to the study.

---

Vlad was so tired. The emotions in the room were battering against him like furiously howling seas and he didn’t know how to calm them. He’d said too much and now he would pay for it. He couldn’t even be angry with Sypha for bringing it out of him, he should have known better.

His own emotions had been locked away too long on this matter and they were all coming out now. Vlad saw them on his son’s face and it was unbearable. It was hard enough to look at Trevor and see Dominic’s reproach. But when Sypha had cried, that unwound his heart completely. He’d always been unable to handle when a strong woman cried.

He thought of Penelope when she’d finally confronted him about the forgeries and how they’d all been Tepes pieces. How could you? Her face filled with disappointment and her blue eyes accusing. You swore.

How ironic that he told his own son what he told her. It would have happened eventually. The cost was enormous. The risks. The self-loathing was huge. He would never have the chance to live up to that promise now.

Instead, I have to make new promises to your son, he told the apparition. There was a part of him that was grateful that he was able to give Trevor both the history and the money. It healed something inside himself that was decayed and sickly, like a browned apple core that hadn’t dried out but had just continued to age.

It was clear from both Sypha and Adrian that they were concerned about Trevor’s finances and his familial connections. Fortunately, Vlad Dracula was very good with money.

He looked at Trevor. “I intend to forward you the money that I owed–.” In the corner of his eye he saw the doorknob turn and everything froze but that slowly rotating motion. Who was it? How long had they been in the hallway and what had they heard? 

The silver of light as the door cracked. The slow turn of the young people as the crack widened. The absolute terror of understanding that the one person he never thought it could be, was in fact, the person opening the door. The ruthless slam of a cage around his emotions. If he didn’t handle this and handle it now, he would lose everything.

“Ah, Lisa,” he said coolly even as his heart hammered in his chest. What did you hear? “Was your appointment–.”

“Stop,” she said, her eyes meeting his gaze. What waited for him there was panic-inducing and his heart ceased to beat. “I believe we need to talk.”

---

Last fire will rise behind those eyes
Black house will rock, blind boys don't lie
Immortal fear, that voice so clear
Through broken walls, that scream I hear
Cry, little sister (Thou shall not fall)
Come, come to your brother (Thou shall not die)
Unchain me, sister (Thou shall not fear)
Love is with your brother (Thou shall not kill)
Blue masquerade, strangers look on
When will they learn this loneliness?
Temptation heat beats like a drum
Deep in your veins, I will not lie

-"Cry Little Sister," Gerard McMann

Notes:

Yes, I know, this is a really famous song for a very specific vampire movie but like, it's Vlad, come on now.
---
Mood board: Carmilla-Anastasia Eg, Isaac-Tyson Beckford, Vlad-Jeff Bridges, Lisa-Robin Wright, background-Mike U, Unsplash

Chapter 54: If I could change your mind

Summary:

The full consequences of this disclosure hadn’t yet occurred to him. He’d been so focused on Trevor and what this meant to his lover, that he hadn’t stopped to understand that he might very well be witnessing the end of his parent’s marriage. 

Part of Adrian simply couldn’t believe it. They were the most in love people he knew. But another part of him understood that if Lisa was feeling even a fraction of the betrayal he was, there was no way that the marriage could survive.

Notes:

Badly Chapter 53

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Adrian heard his father stand up behind him but didn’t look at him. He was too busy looking at his mother and feeling coldly satisfied. He felt so brittle and the pain so intense, that he was numb to the grief and fury he saw on her face.

She heard everything, he thought. And now she knows what a liar her husband is. What a hideous, hypocritical, vain and–

“I need to speak to my husband, please,” Lisa said quietly and Vlad’s throat cleared. “And I would ask that no one shares what they’ve heard here until I have had the privilege of hearing what exactly is going on.”

“Of course,” Trevor said quickly and stood. Sypha looked at Trevor and then at Adrian.

“Are you coming?” she asked him softly and he shook his head.

“You heard your mother,” Vlad started and Adrian snarled, turning back to his father.

“I am not a child and you will not order me out of the room!” Vlad’s eyes sparked but surprisingly, he held his tongue. You will never tell me what to do again, the painter thought fiercely.

“Adrian–,” Trevor started to say and the blonde closed his eyes. 

Be gentle with him, he reminded himself. Don’t make it worse. He shook his head, long blonde waves rustling and the sculptor trailed off. “Trevor, I need a moment with my family.” He hated that his voice was not steady. “Please go back to my wing and wait for me there. I will not be long and we have much to discuss, don’t we?”

Trevor looked at him and Adrian almost broke. The sorrow in his eyes was crushing him. The anger was scorching the bloody pulp that was left. “Alright,” the brunette said simply. Sypha linked arms with him and they made their way to the door.

Lisa stepped aside for them and Sypha reached out to her. The women’s fingers were white-knuckled as they grasped each other’s hands for a brief moment. No one spoke and then the door was closing.

“Lisa, I don’t know what you heard but it’s not what you think,” Vlad said.

“Oh cut the bullshit, Father!” Adrian said. “It’s exactly what it sounded like!” He looked back at his mother and gave her a bitter smile. “He’s a fucking fake, Mother. Welcome to the nightmare. Pull up a chair.”

Vlad started to snarl but both men fell silent when Lisa held up her hand. She came forward, a graceful silhouette that settled into the chair Trevor had vacated. Her face was strained but calm and it hurt Adrian to look at it.

Just one more person I love that you’ve hurt irreparably, the painter thought.

“Adrian, I want to hear your opinion but for now, I want to hear this from the beginning,” Lisa said quietly. “Please refrain from commenting unless something is being omitted.”

Resentment pressed against his teeth but he nodded sharply. Haltingly, Vlad Dracula started to retrace his steps over the story. Adrian interrupted once, when Vlad neglected to mention he was the reporter’s source. His father actually thanked him.

You are not welcome, Adrian thought but simply didn’t respond. He was listening but he also wasn’t. The blonde watched his mother but her face remained impassive. Every once in a while her hands would clench and he would know she was falling apart inside.

The full consequences of this disclosure hadn’t yet occurred to him. He’d been so focused on Trevor and what this meant to his lover, that he hadn’t stopped to understand that he might very well be witnessing the end of his parent’s marriage. 

Part of Adrian simply couldn’t believe it. They were the most in love people he knew. But another part of him understood that if Lisa was feeling even a fraction of the betrayal he was, there was no way that the marriage could survive.

It was a petty glee to have his father pay in such a dear and painful way for what he had done to Trevor. But there was too much sorrow for it to take hold. It would devastate his mother and he couldn’t even begin to imagine the political ramifications of such a thing. 

The literal fall of a dynasty and by the one person no one would see it coming from, Adrian thought. 

Once again his thoughts turned to Trevor. Would he even be able to look at me? The painter wondered. Once it has really sunk in, what my family was responsible for? What we stole from him?

Adrian looked at Vlad and looked away. Everything he’d ever thought about him was in shambles. It was like looking at a stranger. If he could do this, what else could he do? He wondered. Whispers of the rumors he’d heard over the years clamored around him until he couldn’t bear it.

“Was everything a lie?” he whispered, interrupting. “Who are you?”

Vlad started and looked at him like he forgot Adrian was in the room. “I never lied about anything but this,” his father said quickly. “And I didn’t want to lie about it but I had to protect you and your–.”

“I don’t believe you.” Adrian said and the grief swelled against his temples, running cold fingers towards the back of his eyes. “How could I? You lied to me, your son. You lied to my mother, the woman you supposedly love. For decades. You’ve lied to me since I was born!”

His father’s gaze was so intense it hurt. “I did not lie about anything else and this started before you were born! I was trying to protect you! I was trying to do the right thing when no one–!”

“The right thing for you!” Adrian hissed angrily. “Not for anyone else but bloody Vlad Dracula Tepes! Not for me, or for Mother, or Romania! You only cared about yourself in this and I am such a fool! Such a stupid, trusting fool to think that somehow the fucking FBI was wrong about you!”

“They are wrong about me! Believe it or not, but our family is just as much a victim as the Belmonts were!” Adrian scoffed loudly but Vlad plowed determinedly on. “In the same way that I am just as guilty as they are of committing a crime! A crime that never should have had to be considered in the first place if justice had actually occurred! No one involved was innocent and no one was solely to blame!”

“Who told Crimson Stone that the Belmonts wanted out?” 

Adrian refused to let his tears fall. There were no tears he would give his father. “Tell me you didn’t put it all on them just to save face! You knew, you knew, that a criminal organization who was being told that they would be losing income could do something drastic!”

Vlad shook his head emphatically. “No! No I really didn’t, Adrian! They weren’t criminals, at least when it started. I told them that the Belmonts wanted out because I had been too slow to reclaim artworks, and Penelope–,” he broke the words off and Adrian’s suspicions sparked like the snap of a gas stove lighting the flame.

“Penelope, what?” he asked. “She what, Father?”

Vlad sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “When they decided they wanted out? It was because of a conversation she and I had. The last piece… she wanted to know who it was for. Which family.”

Understanding swamped Adrian like an overflowing pitcher under a running tap. “You mean she wanted to know who they were helping, that wasn’t a Tepes,” he said bitterly. “She wanted to confirm you weren’t actually the lying, cheating bastard who was forcing them to commit crimes for his own personal glory!”

We were all fooled Penelope and your faith cost you your life, he thought. Mine cost me the love of your son.

Vlad leaned forward and stared at him. Adrian met his gaze with equal temper and refused to look away. There was a tiny part of him that was shocked that he could do it. He’d never spoken to his father in this way, much less challenged him to this extent.

The lines beside his father’s mouth deepened with displeasure and his eyebrows knit. “I’ve let you say a lot of disrespectful things here Adrian, because I know this is a shock and as I said, I made a lot of mistakes in this matter, but you will mind your tongue.”

“I will not, but thanks so much for proving that despite everything you still think that somehow you are deserving of respect. That somehow you might still be in charge of this family,” he retorted angrily. 

You are absolutely delusional if you think you’ll ever have a say in what I do ever again! He finished silently.

Vlad’s eyes sparked and he snarled. “You know better than to try me, boy! I made a mistake but that does not give you the right to–!”

Adrian surged up, infuriated. “It gives me every right! The years I have spent trying to make sure I didn’t shame you, or your precious Tepes name! The things I gave up, the life I–!”

The truth of what he was saying was a traumatic unpeeling of wounds that had never healed. The pain of them fed into the anger that coated him in suffocating layers. I didn’t really understand how much I had allowed you to dictate my life, he thought with true remorse. And that ends now.

“Oh please!” Vlad reared back and planted his hands on the desk. “You lacked for nothing! You were given every opportunity! The responsibilities you actually needed to fulfill, you left untended as much as possible and you flat out refused to engage in the basics of politics and networking! You act like–!”

“Enough!” Lisa raised her voice sharply and Vlad immediately sat down, jaw working. Adrian was slower but he sat as well. “Now,” she said pointedly. “There may be time to revisit personal feelings later, if people will remain civil, but in the meantime, Vlad, you were talking about Penelope Belmont.”

Lord Tepes took a breath and brushed a hand over his head. “Yes, well. I had given them a list of paintings and indicated that we would work our way down it. It took so much longer than we thought.” 

There was a pain in his voice that Adrian interpreted as upset over how long he had to wait. In reality, it was for how the lies had mounted and piled up over the years.

“Was it selfish of me to retrieve all the Tepes paintings first?” Vlad sighed, the sound filled with defeat. “Yes, I suppose it was. I told myself that I was paying for this out of pocket and it was fair of me to put our family’s art first.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t suppose it matters to anyone now, but when Dominic first approached me, he offered to help me get ‘A Lady With Her Flowers.’ That was it. I was the one who asked him about getting them all back, about retrieving everything that had been stolen.”

Vlad looked at his hands. “I was naive about what that really meant. Even Penelope and Dominic were too. They’d only ever dealt in single and one double, reclamation. When a decade had passed and we’d only averaged a painting or two a year, it became clear how impossible the task was.” He raked his hand over his hair.

“So I was asked to refine the list. Prioritize the reclamations,” Vlad looked at Lisa.

“And you let the others go, didn’t you?” she asked calmly. 

“Yes,” Vlad said. “But only for this method of reclamation, I swear. I was approaching it from a legal angle for those we couldn’t retrieve through forgery. I was working with my lawyer,” he met her eyes, “Akumajō at the time, and we started to craft a suit for repatriation for the remaining 38 pieces. This represented not only artworks that belonged to the RRAG but 17 private families, 9 of whom did not have the means to pursue their claims legally.”

“But the Tepes family wouldn’t wait on that slim chance, would they Father?” Adrian asked sarcastically. “God forbid that we have to wait like everyone else and take the risk that we–!”

Vlad slammed his fist on the table. “Use your considerable intellect! I couldn’t pursue my claims legally for several reasons! Many of the pieces remaining had little to no documentation or simply didn’t exist in the public sphere. We didn’t even know where several of them were yet, we were still trying to determine if they’d even survived! I couldn’t afford any indication we were pursuing our artworks, because they might lead back to what the Belmonts were doing!”

Lisa shifted slightly. Lord Tepes took a deep breath and uncurled his fist, leaving his hand flat on the dark wood. “Was it selfish? Yes. I already said it was. But I also had very good and legitimate reasons to keep the Tepes name out of any repatriation claims.”

“Why did you think the repatriation case would work this time? When Gozer didn’t?” Lisa asked. 

Excellent question Mother, Adrian thought. Why indeed?

Vlad nodded, a small, rueful smile on his lips that made his son want to hit him. “A couple of reasons. It had been almost eleven years since Gozer failed and public and government perceptions had shifted significantly. There weren't a lot of definitive legal precedents yet but several seemed imminent, most notably with the Bremen Museum case and the Portrait of Wally.”

His smile was bitter. “Little did we know that the legal battles over those cases that gave us such hope were just beginning.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the real turning point was the Washington Conference in 1998. But I didn’t do anything about it at the time because…”

“Because our son was born,” Lisa finished.

Into your web of lies and deceit, Adrian thought. To become an unwitting participant in your crimes against the Belmonts.

Vlad exhaled. “Yes. Well, more specifically because of the medical complications for both of you, from his birth.” She nodded solemnly and Vlad swallowed hard. “To say I was distracted…” his jaw clenched. “Anyway, as you know, I was very focused for most of the year on caring for my family.

Adrian wanted to say something but it was so cruel that even in his anger, he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words. Instead, he pressed his fingers to the front of his shirt, feeling the old scar tissue and struggling against guilt, gratitude, fury and grief. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Did Akumajō file?” Lisa asked quietly.

“Yes,” Vlad said. “Jointly with Soma, Walters, and Cobb. The number of lawyers was intentional and for several reasons that I can get into another time but it had to do mostly with anonymity. The filing was on behalf of the RRAG, the families and Romanian people.”

“What suit was this?” she asked, face strained and eyes on him. Adrian could hear how she struggled to keep her voice level.

“The Herzog Suit,” Vlad said and Adrian’s jaw dropped.

That’s impossible! He thought with shock. The Herzog case was famous for a number of reasons, but most importantly it was still on-going. “There are pieces from the Gozer case in that!” he snapped out. “It’s against Hungary! You didn’t think people would figure–!”

Vlad shook his head. “No, they won’t.”

Adrian’s laugh was disbelieving and his words were scornful. “Just like you thought no one would figure out this?! They’ll trace it back, they’ll–!”

Vlad smile was sad. “No,” he said again, slowly. “Working with the Belmonts? I learned some things. Over the years, I have learned more.” Adrian sneered but Vlad simply sighed. He stood and gestured to the tray of coffee. Lisa shook her head and Adrian just crossed his arms.

Vlad kept speaking but went to the tray and poured himself a glass of water.  “While there is nothing illegal about Herzog, I did not want it coming back to us, ever. Once the terms were negotiated and the evidence gathered, Akumajō contacted the other lawyers we’d pre-determined would represent with him on the case, including Soma.”

He took a sip of water, turning back to them. “They are each working for a percentage of the awarded value and their current expenses are being paid by an anonymous benefactor of Romanian descent, and whose funds sit in a numbered company bank account that is accessible only by Soma and Akumajō jointly.”

Lisa spoke. “Soma doesn’t know it’s you?” Vlad looked at her and shook his head.

“I trust him, which is why I gave him control, but not even Soma knows about the Belmonts. I simply couldn’t risk it.” He held her gaze. “No one knew, because there was no other way to keep you and Adrian safe.”

Safe, Adrian thought and felt sick. His despair was a saturated sponge streaking long lines of grief behind it to be lapped up by the thirsty wolf of rage. Safe, while Trevor was alone in the world. While Trevor thought he’d killed his parents and dropped out of school and got concussions trying to earn money and… and.

“Do you have any idea what Trevor went through?” he said through clenched teeth, his hands digging into each other as he clasped them. “Do you know the things he endured and survived?”

Do you have any idea what Carmilla put him through? He raged silently as the emotion built like a pyre to a god who would never be satisfied. Because of you? Because of me? Because you wanted to keep me ‘safe?’

Vlad flinched and came forward. “Adrian, I told you, I am sorry–.”

“Fuck you and your pointless apologies!” the blonde hissed, fury rising on his face.

Vlad’s face set into dangerous lines and he carefully put his glass down. “Adrian, I warned you, you will mind your tongue.”

“I will not!” the blonde stood. “To think, I used to believe that there was no one with more honor, more integrity. But you are a selfish, cruel, horrible person and I am ashamed to be your son!”

Lord Tepes’ grip on the edge of his desk turned his knuckles white and his breath quickened. Lisa remained seated but she looked at him. “Adrian, I think–.”

Adrian loved his mother but even she didn’t understand exactly what Vlad had wrought when he’d started this ill-fated scheme. He felt Trevor’s tears on his skin and heard the exhausted torment in his voice as he tried to explain what had happened with Carmilla. The certainty in Adrian’s bones that she’d raped him.

Adrian’s heart vomited. “I don’t give a shit what you think right now!” the blonde said. It was rude and he didn’t mean it to come out like that, but he was at his breaking point.

The effect on his father was immediate. His face purpled with rage and he rounded the chair his wife was seated in. “How dare you speak to your mother like that!”

Adrian whirled to him, the ache in his heart overwhelming him. “How dare you! You let a child, a fucking child shield you from the consequences of your actions! You used someone innocent to cower behind! You snivelling, pathetic, disgusting asshole!”

“I am done warning you about your civility, Adrian! I understand you are upset about Belmont but your friend will not come before the respect you owe your mother!”

“Both of you–!” Lisa started to say, rising up.

“He’s not my friend!” Adrian snapped back. “I love him!”

Vlad’s face contorted in a caricature of disbelief, anger, grief and determination before settling into an intense gaze that burned him. “No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

As if somehow you could order it out of existence, the blonde thought feverishly. Do you even care that he makes me happy? That he makes me feel loved?

“What? You thought I would ask for your permission? Your blessing? This is my life and my choice!” 

“It is not just your life!” Vlad thundered. “Do you understand what the ramifications are for me? For your mother? For our family? Do you even know what happens if this becomes public?!” His mother made a token sound of protest that barely registered for either man.

“Why should I care when you didn’t?” Adrian snarled back.

“Have you even thought about Sypha?!” Vlad roared. “She deserves better than this!”

“We’ve done more than think about her,” Adrian flung back. “She knows and she loves us too! Some of us don’t keep secrets from the woman we love!”

“The woman I love is the only reason on earth for me to tolerate your–! ” Vlad roared.

“I hate you! I wish you were dead!” Adrian roared back and Vlad struck him in a hard slap that stung like a flung jellyfish into the side of his face. 

“Vlad!” his mother screamed.

Adrian went down hard with a sharp exhale and sprawled out on the carpet. His father had never struck him before, and the shock overtook everything for a moment. Then the emotional volcanoes that had bubbled under his skin exploded.

His internal skies rained blades as he looked up at the man he’d admired for too long and buried all his dying affection under the rising certainty that blood for blood was a perfectly rational response. 

“You,” he snarled. “Will regret that.”

---

Lisa held her breath. Oh Adrian, she thought. This helps nothing.

She didn’t dare look at Vlad for a moment. She needed to compose her face first. “No,” she heard him say. “You didn’t.”

There was so much weight in those words that she flinched. Her heart broke for him. Despite everything that suggested otherwise, he’d believed that Adrian would put his familial ties before everything else. She’d known that and she could have–. Don’t do that Lisa, she thought.

But the truth was she understood that in many ways, this was Vlad’s worst nightmare. Not only was he wrong and had to admit it, he had to be able to see that his relationship with his son was literally crumbling. He was grieving it even as it infuriated him that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

Unfortunately for Vlad, his grief and fear always manifested in anger.

But when she looked at her son, she could see Adrian’s face and the brutal agony of what she saw there made her shiver. “What?” he sneered at his father. “You thought I would ask for your permission? Your blessing? This is my life and my choice!”

Stop and think for one moment! She wanted to scream at both of them but there was no point. Intentionally or not, Adrian had hit upon the basis of this whole thing for both of them. 

Love.

Vlad’s love for his family. Adrian’s love for Trevor. The emotions that should have united her family were, in fact, fracturing it. Adrian would never forgive his father for hurting the man he loved. Vlad would never forgive him for putting Trevor before the family.

“It is not just your life!” Vlad roared. “Do you understand what the ramifications are for me? For your mother? For our family? Do you even know what happens if this becomes public?!”

“Don’t–” Lisa started to say and fell silent. Don’t use me as an excuse, is what she wanted to say, but the truth was that he was right. As far as Vlad knew, this was a shock to her too. So many opportunities to ease him into this, and now it will forever be tainted by his own shame, she thought.

“Why should I care when you didn’t?”

“Have you even thought of Sypha?!” Vlad roared. “She deserves better than this!”

“We’ve done more than think about her,” her son’s face was bitterly triumphant. “She knows and she loves us too! Some of us don’t keep secrets from the woman we love!”

The insults had to stop, she thought with rising certainty. Expressing emotions and disappointment was one thing but they were going to say something that they couldn’t come back–.

“The woman I love is the only reason on earth for me to tolerate your–!” Vlad roared.

That’s enough! she thought and opened her mouth to say it. Her son beat her to the punch.

“I hate you! I wish you were dead!” 

People always say that time slows in a disaster but she’d never experienced it before. Adrian was a man now, and there was no little boy in those words. They speared her, the wound deep and true as the conviction in his voice. 

He means it, she thought and her eyes flew to Vlad.

She knew how close to the line of losing control Vlad was because of this scene. Hadn’t she just thought about how hard this must be for him? Lisa understood how painful it was for him to have Adrian, of all people, speaking to him like this.

His temper was not slow to kindle but he rarely gave into it completely. When he did, it was fearsome and terrifying. When Lisa saw Vlad’s face, she witnessed the snap of his temper, as ragged and ugly as a sapling branch wrenched in a brutal twist.

Oh my God, was the only thing she had time to think when his hand descended and her horror unfurled like a monster’s tentacle out of an inky black cave. She screamed at her husband even as she saw Adrian fall, the shock on his face like some horribly sketched caricature. 

He has completely lost control! She thought.

Vlad hesitated, just a moment, and she could have sworn she saw regret. Lisa had time to take one step when her son whirled, bared his teeth and snarled. The sound skittered up her spine and caught her breath. Never, in her entire life, had she seen Adrian so angry.

“You will regret that.”

The words were menacing, his face so contorted with rage that Lisa froze. You forgot Vlad, she thought frantically, this is your son. The temper, the power, the passion, and the intensity of his devotion; they are his too and you have found the point of no return with him.

Adrian swept out his ankle, hooked it over Vlad’s and toppled the older man in a heartbeat. She gasped, even as her son rolled, lunged and struck Vlad fully in the face with his fist.

“No! Stop!” she shrieked, the sound such an uncharacteristically high-pitched wail that it hurt her own ears. 

It was like she wasn’t even there. Vlad snarled and dodged; Adrian’s next blow missing as his father jabbed his belly and followed with an uppercut that missed. 

The men rolled and Lisa grabbed for Vlad. She stumbled into the space their bodies should have been. When Adrian’s next blow was hard enough to split Vlad’s brow she threw herself into the midst of their fighting, pulling at Adrian’s arm and begging them both to stop. 

It took her a moment to understand what happened when she came up hard against the chair, rapping her head and ripping her skirt. Twin cries of masculine concern echoed loudly. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and then there was Adrian.

He was murmuring apologies in his calm voice, and gently lifting her into the chair with tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he was saying. “I didn’t think, I didn’t–!”

Oh baby, it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it, she thought and smiled gently at him.

“It’s alright. I am alright,” she soothed. “It was an accident; I should have told you I was going to grab you. It’s not your fault. You were upset and you just reacted. You did not hurt me.”

He was shaking and when she touched his face, he took a deep breath.

“Was it worth it?” Vlad asked coldly and Lisa stiffened. Adrian’s breath caught and she watched his face ice over until there was nothing of him there and everything that was left was the face of a stranger.

“Vlad–!” she said warningly but Adrian was already putting her hands down gently and turning.

Vlad lay prone, propped up on one hand, face furious and brows knit. Slowly, Adrian approached him and squatted down until he looked his father in the eye.

“Don’t ever contact me again,” their son said simply.

No, she thought, tears she’d held at bay finally finding freedom in the five words that dropped like steps over a cliff.

Vlad’s face was scornful but Adrian was not finished. “I love him and you’ve ruined it. Your lies have destroyed my life.” The blonde turned slowly toward his mother and she would have begged if she thought it would make a difference.

Each degree that rotated his body closer to her was another memory of raising him. Adrian running in the sunshine, blonde locks streaming behind him. Her son sobbing in the night for Mama, or the curl of his hand in hers before they stepped out of the limo. The pride in his eyes when he looked at them at their 25th wedding anniversary. The hope and wonder in his face when he told her he was in love. Each memory crumpled a piece of her heart until all that was left was the sweet, sad little bits like broken candy cane debris left in a discarded wrapper.

The intense golden eyes pinned on her and she could not speak. Lisa’s heart tripped with fear. “Mother, you did not know about this?” he asked. She shook her head and he nodded. “I thought as much. You would be welcome in our,” the emphasis was poignant, “home.”

He turned to stare at his father. “If Trevor will still have me.” Quietly he stood, opened the door and stepped out. When he closed it a silence like a cold winter’s night fell.

Lisa turned to her husband and despite herself, her heart ached for him. For a split second devastation like a clearcut forest was stark and ugly. 

And it wasn’t over.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Vlad said coldly and his tone cut her clean.

How can you possibly feel that is the appropriate response here? She wondered, her temper rising to overwhelm her grief.

“Oh, I think he does,” she said shortly. “You’ve betrayed everything that matters to him and he sees you now.”

Vlad’s head jerked up at her and he started to rise. She waited for him to find his feet and asked the question that was most important to her. It was selfish and she wanted to despise herself for it, but she was only human, and this man meant everything to her.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Vlad breathed deeply and rolled his shoulders. It was a tell and it was her answer. 

You son of a bitch, she thought and her temper, slower than anyone else’s in this house, ignited in a hurricane of flames.

“I did what I thought was right, Lisa,” he began. “I wanted to protect you.”

It was her turn to growl, and his eyes flared with shock. “Do not lie to me, Vlad. You’ve already done that.” His face was a pleading wish that she refused to fulfill. “Tell me, dear husband,” she brushed her hair back and straightened her spine. “What did I say when you asked me to marry you?”

Awareness and then fear bled into his eyes. Good, she thought ruthlessly, be afraid.

“Lisa,” he started with a plea. 

“Vlad.” She tossed back just as cold as he had been with their son. “What did I say?”

He swallowed. “You asked me why my first marriage ended.”

“Yes, and why did it end, Vlad?”

“Because I kept secrets,” he whispered.

“Because you kept secrets.” She spat back out at him. “You lost her, because you lied to her.”

They both knew that he had loved Betta but he had not respected her. His first wife was, by all accounts, lovely but she was incredibly submissive. Lisa had understood that Betta had fed Vlad’s pride, masculine control, and need for obedience. Too late he had realized that Betta would never fulfill his need to be challenged intellectually, or rivalled in his ambition and he couldn’t respect that. He'd kept his own council on too many things and it eroded their relationship even further. He had needed a partner equal to him. Lisa thought that had been her. 

I was wrong, she thought with deep grief. 

“Lisa, I wanted to tell you, I thought—”

“And what did I tell you then?” she asked him slowly, temper fading back like sun-burnt paper. Her anger never lasted long and what lay in front of her was such a devastated ruin of emotion that she couldn’t hold onto anything that could stop the torrent of grief.

Lisa. For God’s sake, please—”

“I told you I would only marry you if you swore there would be no secrets between us. I asked you if there was anything, anything, that you needed to tell me first. I would hear it and I would forgive it, but only then. Only then.”

Vlad’s face was panicked now, the black slashes of his brows like the arch of a thundercloud that would break weeping tears over the land. Love was a huge ache inside her, a pulsing nerve that screamed in pain and begged for relief. She would give it to neither of them. 

“We agreed,” she said. “We would be partners. We would not lie and we would trust each other. You lied to me then and you continued to lie to make sure I would not know.”

“I didn’t lie! I omitted!” 

Lisa wanted to scream at him. You omitted?!? But he was still speaking and she struggled to pay attention.

“I was wrong, so wrong, but I swear Lisa, I swear I wanted to tell you! I hated this, I hated it so much but I couldn’t risk you.” She could see the tears brimming now and horror shook his hand as he reached for her.

She could not comfort him and she would not lie to make him feel better. This was her limit. It always had been. If he could not keep the one promise that had been her sole condition, the one boundary of protection she gave herself, then he did not love her. “No,” she said, temper bright and fed by the agony of her marriage collapsing. She stepped back. “Do not touch me.”

“Lisa!” His face was shocked terror. “Take a moment and think about this! I agree, I was wrong and I am so sorry, I will never be able to say it enough but we must press pause on this long enough to deal with Adrian and Trevor and Sypha first. If that gets out, if–.”

“I don’t care,” she said slowly, and watched his eyes flash with fresh surprise. Understanding came to him quickly and he hissed.

“You knew.

“Yes,” she told him. “Adrian only confirmed it only Friday, but I knew.”

“You lied to me this morning!” he said, so righteously furious that she wanted to laugh. She resisted. It would help nothing. But she wasn’t quite willing to let that go. It was petty of her, but she was willing to accept that.

“I omitted,” Lisa said with only a hint of derision.

Vlad bristled just like their wolves when there was a threat. “So I would be condemned for my omission,” he barked at her, “but you expect me to be fine that you omitted knowing that Adrian was in a ménage à trois! How could you be alright with--!”

“Don’t even compare the two!” she said vehemently. “That wasn’t mine to tell, and I only knew because he confided in me! It’s not our business anyway!”

Vlad’s laugh was cruel. “Am I the only one who gives a damn about the absolute catastrophe that this would be if it got out?!”

“Oh stop it!” Lisa said with exasperation. “It’s not that bad! Did you even stop to consider how happy they are together? We both have hoped and dreamed of our son finding someone who adored him and now he has two!”

Vlad raked his hand through his hair and muttered. “It’s not love.”

Intense anger sharpened her gaze and she slapped a hand onto the chair handle and stood to face him. “Tell our son that, Vlad.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Have you ever noticed how many people he has brought home to us? How many friends he has? What about dates? Come now, I know you still get the security reports and background checks. Exactly how many people does Adrian allow to get close to him?”

The tears burned again and they were regret. But they belonged to Adrian and she would give them to the right man. She had talked about this with her husband before and she thought he understood. How many things have I believed that weren’t actually true? She wondered.

“He’s young, Lisa,” Vlad said, “Does he even know what love is? He doesn’t understand what this could–.” She could see the moment he understood what he had said. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.”

“So someone that young can't know what real love is?” she asked roughly. “So young that he shouldn’t expect the respect of his partner to keep their promise not to keep secrets? Or say, get married when the world disapproves because there is a 14 year age difference?”

“That was different!” he protested. “We handled that well, we were prepared, and we–-.”

“We could be prepared here,” she retorted. “We could support him, and handle it well, and sacrifice for his happiness!”

“But the risks are immeasurable!” her husband said stubbornly and suddenly Lisa understood.

“This had better not be about your bloody pride, Vlad.” Lisa couldn’t stand the thought of it, but she also knew this man. “Adrian’s life, his love… his respect for you, are worth ten times that.”

“Pride has nothing to do with it,” he hissed at her, eyes narrowing. “This could destroy everything and you know that.”

“Do I?” she asked him bluntly, eyes blazing. She spread her hands. “You know what could destroy everything much more quickly? The idea that Vlad Dracula Tepes willfully stole priceless works of art, replaced them with forgeries he commissioned, and did nothing to protect the beloved child of his supposed friends. But you still risked it. You lived with it. You accepted it."

She met his eyes. "Tell me that the happiness of your son is worth at least that much to you."
---

Shout, shout
Let it all out
These are the things I can do without
Come on, I'm talking to you, come on

They gave you life
And in return you gave them Hell
As cold as ice
I hope we live to tell the tale

Shout, shout
Let it all out
These are the things I can do without
Come on, I'm talking to you, come on

And when you've taken down your guard
If I could change your mind
I'd really love to break your heart

-"Shout," Tears for Fears

Notes:

'Twas the night before Christmas in the Tepes house; no one was sleeping, not Vlad nor his spouse. The lies were out now, the history bared, all their hearts broken with grievances aired.

What would happen to us, together they cried. How can this be resolved? These matters of pride.

Don't fret, Eca said with a cheerful smile, I've been thinking on this, you see, for a while.
It might take some time, I daresay some pain, but I promise you all, you'll be together again.

So hold tight to each other and weather the strife, for when Tepes men love, they love for life.
---
The history of repatriation is both fascinating & painful. I have tried to stay as factual as possible, both with dates, names, locations and circumstances because the truth is better than anything I could come up with. Obviously the Tepes family is not real but the circumstances I have detailed here happened to thousands of Jewish families in WW2.

The particularities of the art is also factual (as much as possible) and I would share some of the history with you.

Bremen Artworks:

July 19, 2001- U.S. Customs Service returned historic paintings that were taken from the Bremen Museum in Germany over 50 years before. Among the works were drawings by Rembrandt and Jacob van Ruisdael and the late 15th century drawing of "Women's Bath" by the Albrecht Dürer, valued at $10 million.

During World War II, the drawings were stored for safekeeping in a castle, which was occupied in 1943 by Russian troops, who took the drawings home with them. The drawings didn't surface again until 1993, when a fine arts museum in Azerbaijan announced plans to exhibit them.

The Bremen Museum tried to assert ownership, but the artwork was stolen again from the Azerbaijan museum before Bremen was able to assert its claim. In 1997, mention of the drawings surfaced again in Tokyo in the offices if the German Embassy.

U.S. Customs agents, acting in an undercover capacity, set up a meeting with the Japanese businessman in N.Y. and ultimately arrested several targets and seized the pieces from a hotel room in midtown and an apartment in Brooklyn.

https://www.ice.gov/factsheets/cultural-artifacts-ww2
---
Portrait of Wally:

The Schiele painting belonged to Jewish art dealer Lea Bondi Jaray, who had her gallery Aryanized prior to escaping to London. She sold the painting to a Nazi, Friedrich Welz, who had expressed an interest in the work. After the war ended, the allied forces returned the piece to the Austrian authorities. This was standard practice: rather than return work to each heir, the allies decided give the paintings back to the rightful governments (which often were still anti-Semitic) for ultimate restitution. In this case, the Austrians returned the Schiele painting to the wrong owners.

In 1953, Bondi, who survived, asked a Schiele expert named Dr. Rudolf Leopold where her stolen work ended up. Leopold told her it was in the Galerie Belvedere but that it would be impossible to retrieve and that the Belvedere would never part with it. However, Leopold turned around and acquired Portrait of Wally from the gallery in exchange for other works.

Leopold loaned the Schiele, through his private museum, to the Museum of Modern Art in New York for a 1997 exhibition of a portion of his collection. Shortly after the piece arrived in the United States, the District Attorney of Manhattan—not the Bondis—moved to have the painting seized as stolen property. In 1999, Leopold triumphed in court against the Manhattan DA, but shortly thereafter the U.S. Attorney filed for the seizure of the same painting.

After numerous motions and appeals, the case moved through discovery (a rarity in holocaust restitution cases). Ultimately, the question became: did Leopold know that the work was stolen when he sent it to the United States for exhibition? (Hint, resounding yes). Trial was set to begin in July 2010 but a few short weeks before the case was to begin, Leopold died.

Shortly thereafter, the Bondi heirs and the Leopold Foundation commenced negotiations and a settlement was reached. The foundation paid the heirs $19 million and the painting remained in Austria. The publicity afforded to the case reshaped the litigation landscape. From 1990 to 1997, only two holocaust restitution cases were filed. After Wally, it seemed possible to pursue looted art in American court.

https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-3-cases-explain-restituting-nazi-looted-art-difficult
---
1998 Washington Conference Principles:

Eleven clear and concise guidelines that every effort is to be made to return art to the heirs/rightful owners in an expedited, fair and just manner.

https://www.state.gov/washington-conference-principles-on-nazi-confiscated-art/

Chapter 55: I need forgiveness, someone to bear witness

Summary:

“No,” the blonde said. “There is nothing left to say. You should go.”

There it is, Trevor thought, and the pain was so intense that exploded like white cracks across his vision. “I will go,” he said softly. “But could you please look at me first? I need to say something to you.”

Notes:

Content Warning: Serious angst and unpleasant sexual dynamics in this chapter with resolution by the end.
It Started Out Badly -Chapter 54

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

They made it to the stairs before Trevor’s tears overwhelmed him. “I’ve lost him,” he whispered and felt the first warm, wet track slide down his cheek like grieving rain on the crumbling stones of a ruined castle.

“No,” Sypha said firmly. “No you haven’t.”

“How can you say that?” he asked her. Inside his heart the certainty of what had been lost was a slashing clearcut through the lush rainforest of hope. What was left was dry, brown, dead stumps. “Were you not listening? Did you not see his face? Adrian is…he’s…”

He couldn’t even say the words. Somehow giving voice to them was more terrifying than he could stand. “How could he ever forgive me for this?”

Sypha stopped and looked at him. “Trevor, how is any of this your fault?”

“It’s not; I mean it is,” he shook his head hard. “It’s my family’s fault but what does that matter? When did that ever matter before? It’s the association. I am a Belmont. Oh God Sypha, his anger and his grief and…” 

We have much to discuss, don’t we?

Like how he wants you to leave and never come back, his heart whispered. Panic swooped in; big ugly, bloodthirsty crows to pecking deep gouges into his heart. Your family ruined everything before he was even born. Bringing you home now destroyed everything he cares about. Why would he want you around anymore?

“Trevor, take a deep breath. Breathe.” Sypha had taken hold of both his hands and was looking deeply into his eyes. “Deeeep breaths now; come on.”

He took one and it hurt. His chest was so constricted with the weight of everything he’d heard and seen in the study that it felt like bags of sand inside his lungs. He took another. And another, and slowly, slowly, the sand trickled out. Like an hourglass, he thought. And your time is coming to an end.

“Now listen to me.” The redhead continued. “We are going back to the suite and having something to eat. Everyone’s blood sugar is low, everyone is in shock right now, and we need to regroup as a trio.”

She took one hand away to touch his face, a warm comfort on his chilled skin. “We are not borrowing trouble here. You don’t know what Adrian is feeling and that is why we are all going to talk to each other and not assume, right?”

She’s right, his brain agreed reasonably. You need to give him a chance to say what he needs to. You need to hear it from him. He tried to convince his bruised heart. 

“Okay Sypha,” he said and she smiled, gently tugging his hand forward as they continued toward Adrian’s suite.  

Trevor, I need a moment with my family. 

My family. Trevor heard the weighted words in his mind again. My family, which is not you. My family whom I would do anything for, could never disappoint, could never hurt.

But I did, the brunette thought. I hurt your family more than I can ever make right.

Everything around him was pressing against him like a crowd of accusing witnesses. 

The warmth of a home that belonged to people who loved each other. People who were staring at each other like they were strangers now, he thought. Saying things behind closed doors that could be, and mean, anything. Because of me and mine.

The opulent wealth of a dynasty. A dynasty my family shattered the foundations of. 

Items of historical significance. Items that spoke of a family that mattered to the world. Had always mattered. Your family mattered too, his heart argued. Belmonts meant something once. Vlad made sure we never would again.

There was anger there for that. He’d taken something that might have been considered honorable and sullied it completely. 

I protected our family. In his mind, Vlad’s furious tones echoed like a scream in a tomb. I ensured that this whole sordid affair never came to our door.

Can I really blame him? Trevor thought. I would have panicked too. Adrian’s gentle smile at Lisa across the dining room table. The hand he gave her when they got into the limo. The calm, warm, accepting hug that was offered to him in Lisa’s study. 

No, he decided. I cannot blame Vlad. I would have done anything to protect them too.

But I cannot help but grieve this, he admitted silently. My parents were trying to do the right thing too. Trevor thought about his mother and father as Sypha opened the door to Adrian’s suite. The plea on his mother’s face when she told him that one day she hoped he could be proud of what they’d done.

In a way he was, but… 

Mama, I wish I could be, he thought. But it’s all fucked up now. Everything is ruined. I am grateful that you tried; I’m so grateful it was not just for money… but oh, could it have been any other way? Any other family?

“I’m worried about Lisa,” Sypha said, slipping her shoes off. “She looked like she might have a heart attack.”

Guilt slid under guilt and floated up like ruined keepsakes in a basement where sewage seeped in from the walls. “I can’t imagine how she is feeling right now,” Trevor said honestly. He really couldn’t. This would be like finding out… 

Like finding out that your lover lied to you about being someone else twice over? His brain supplied cruelly. Like his family's lies infiltrated yours and rotted it out from the inside?

A sudden, terrifying thought came to him and the sculptor stood with his hand on the doorknob of the door he’d closed. Trevor stared sightlessly at the rough, wide back of his hand. It was a simple hand connected to someone whose history was anything but.

What if Adrian makes that connection too? What if he looks at his history with you–all the fucked up lies and fights and mistakes; looks at your parents, and your uncle, and you... and all he sees are liars. People who had questionable relationships with the Tepes family that were distorted by money.

Vlad said they were honorable, he reminded himself, but even that wasn’t a comfort. None of it was. All he could hear was Adrian’s awful, flat voice, devoid of everything but a rage so deep and hot that it seemed to be pulled out of the core of the planet.

But he was angry at his father, not you, Trevor reminded himself. He blamed Vlad.

How long until that turns though? He asked himself honestly. How long until he looks at you and sees the ruin of a familial love that obviously meant everything to him? 

Adrian’s face hung like a twisted, tortured ornament in the front of his mind. The vulnerable terror in the limo when he said he couldn’t disappoint his family. The sparkling joy when his father had entered the dining room. The peaceful contentment when he stood with his parents in the foyer.

The Belmonts destroyed that, Trevor thought, the dread like a hot fist crammed down his throat. How could you possibly compare to something that important?

You can’t, his brain said reasonably. He cares about you, but Vlad’s love has cradled him since he was born. It’s logical that he wouldn’t want to give that up.

He would need a scapegoat, he thought. Someone to direct all that fury at. Someone to blame.

They all would, he realized and the tears came now. There’d been kindness and understanding and comfort given to him all weekend by both Vlad and Lisa. It’d been a welcome so honest and sincere that he'd hoped... You thought that maybe you could find a home here too. Losing that dream was a painful slice in what was already a screaming agony.

Can you blame them? He asked himself and couldn’t. Choosing between an orphan nobody with a questionable history of lying, just like his parents, or a family committed, unified and devoted to each other for decades? 

There was no contest here.

Even Sypha, he thought, turning slowly to look at her. She was washing apples in the sink, having gotten a big plate from the cupboard and a jar of peanut butter. She loves the Tepes’ and has an incredible relationship with Vlad.

Could he really expect her not to resent him? To not wish that the inconvenience of Trevor's presence could just be erased and things could go back to normal? It’s not fair, his heart screamed and he ruthlessly shoved that aside. When was it ever? 

This isn’t about what is fair, he told himself. This is about making sure that the people you love can be happy. Even if it’s not with you.

“I can hear your brain in overdrive over there, you know,” Sypha said looking up. “It’s completely reasonable. I am trying to absorb everything too. Do you want to talk about it?”

Trevor’s legs felt like toothpicks supporting a dinner plate heaped with rotting food. You will not collapse, he told himself, looking at the pretty gleam of her hair and the profile of clever, cute features as she turned to dry her hands. 

I’m not ready to give her up, his heart wailed and the honesty of it brought the words that he would have held his peace with.

“I’m afraid,” he said candidly, even as his pride took the hit. “It’s overwhelming me.” Here I am, he thought with shame. Weak again. Crying again.

Sypha stilled and looked up. “Trevor, come here,” she said, rounding the corner of the counter and walking toward him. When her arms opened for him, he felt a sense of relief that was so visceral it numbed his legs.

How can she still love me? he asked himself. 

She’s still processing it. His anxiety was relentless, giving him no peace and no refuge. She hasn’t made the full connection yet.

“Less thinking, more hugging Mr. Belmont,” she said simply and he took a step toward her. “There you go," she said encouragingly. "Come here and hold me. I need you.”

She needs me. That did it. He would always, always try to give Sypha what she needed. What she deserved. She was in his arms in three steps and cradling him in the same breath. 

How much I needed to hold her, he thought. She’s like holding a birthday party. All the joy and excitement and vibrant color and delight, held inside the small, fierce frame of a woman he loved more than any other female on the planet.

“It’s so much,” she whispered against his chest. “There is so much grief in all of it.”

I’m sorry, he thought and squeezed her. “Yes,” he choked out. “It’s everywhere.”

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. I am so sorry Trevor, more than I can say.”

It would be easy, so easy, to ride that sympathy, to use it to comfort himself and try to insulate himself against the inevitable blame and hate. He couldn’t do it, it would only make it harder in the end. “I am too. I would do anything to spare everyone from this. Anything to make it right with Adrian.”

Sypha shook her head gently. “I don’t think you can. It’s not yours to fix. It’s Vlad’s.”

“I need to give him something though Sypha, something that would soften this for him, something that balances out the awful burden of this.” He could hear the despair in his own words. “But there is nothing. I have nothing I can give him.”

“Trevor,” she laughed gently. “You tell him you love him.”

---

Adrian took a moment in the sitting room at the top of the stairs. Quietly shutting the door behind him, he stared blankly out the window and tried to slow his anxious pulse. Everything was in shambles. The inside of his heart looked like one of those photos he’d seen of the aftermath of the Mt. Saint Helen’s volcano. 

I can never make this right with Trevor, he thought. There is nothing I can give him that would ever blot this out.

It consumed him, carved into him as deliberately as a butcher deboning a calf. There was nothing he could do to reverse the inevitable destruction of his future with the man he adored.

Part of him knew he should be worrying about his mother. This was just as horrific for her, and to make it worse, he’d struck her. Before today he’d never hit either of his parents, and the idea that he’d raised his hand to her revolted him. Even if it’d been an accident. 

It was one more thing that poured into the raging chaos of emotion that played a gleeful match of soccer within his stomach.

It was a sick sense of gleeful pride that he’d bloodied his father. 

Adrian was not a violent person but there’d been a freeing madness in the primal urge to extract vengeance. Any restraint had snapped there for him and the punishment of bruises was something, something he could accomplish. There’d been somewhere to place all this helpless grief and wounded fury and floundering broken-heartedness.

Right on Vlad’s fucking face, he thought grimly. The urge to go back and beat his father until something shattered was vibrating through his arm and Adrian trembled with it. He wasn’t sure he could ever look at Lord Tepes again without giving into it. 

“It doesn’t matter because you are never seeing him again,” he muttered.

What if that’s what Trevor says? His heart wept. What if you get to the suite and he is already packing up? The frantic nausea was so strong that Adrian gagged. The sickly fear pinched its way down his body as though it was testing ripeness before it swallowed him whole.

“No,” he whispered. “I won’t let him leave me. I can’t. I would do anything, give him anything. Accept any punishment.”

But what punishment could he give you that would remotely be equal? Adrian didn’t have an answer for that. Someone has to pay for this, he thought.

His father’s absurd belief that somehow money would remotely begin to address the crimes of the Tepes family in this matter was tossed aside as easily as the crumpled tissue in his pocket. Trevor would never accept the money and he would never raise a hand to Vlad, even if both were the bare minimum that the Tepes family could give him.

But what about what Trevor needed? What about the closure the Belmonts deserved?

Why not tell him? Admit it all off the record, and see what he wants you to do.

Trevor’s suggestion about Agent Isaac came back to him and the blonde nodded. Yes, that was precisely what needed to be done. He pulled out his phone and texted Julius for the number on the card. When the picture of it came back alongside the bodyguard’s message: Is everything okay? Adrian laughed. It was a hollow sound, joyless and tired. 

No, he texted back. But it will be. Thanks.

Adrian was not a foolish man, even when his world was collapsing. When he called the number and got Isaac’s voicemail, he elected to simply leave his cell phone, punching it into voicemail and sending it off. He would not leave a message or any indication of what the call was about. Meeting Isaac in person was the safest means of ensuring his goal was met and he would not leave enough of a trail to endanger his mother.

The room fell silent again and the thoughts crowded in. The questions remained. Who would pay for this? What punishment could be given that might balance the scales? There wasn’t anything the Tepes family had that Trevor wanted. There wasn’t anything Trevor wanted that would… the slight pain focused his attention.

He was pressing the bite on his throat again. You are mine. 

Was that still true? he wondered. Trevor’s possessive need for him had always been held in check by his fear of hurting Adrian. What if he didn’t have to worry about hurting me? What if he thought I wanted to be hurt?

Whatever I need?

Would that be something he needed? Adrian deliberated. It was hard for him to believe. Trevor was always so gentle with him. Even the biting and the spanking and the choking were carefully controlled and soaked in affection. Was that what he needed, or what he knew you needed? he asked himself ruthlessly.

“Trevor would deny himself what he really wanted out of consideration, you know this,” he admitted aloud.

But what if you are wrong? he asked himself. What if that isn’t what he wants?

Then he’ll refuse you, he argued. He might refuse you anyway, you don’t know. It is very possible he can’t stand to touch you.

But if he wants me, I could give him this, he thought. Even if it isn’t exactly how I want it to be.

He thought about Trevor’s face when he turned to him. How his eyes had scorched over him in a painful, blistering smear.

Tell me you didn’t know, Adrian! You better fucking tell me now, or I swear—

He needs to have someone to punish, Adrian thought with certainty. I can be that for him and give him what he needs. The horrible, deadening spread of foreboding started laying prickling warnings in his limbs and Adrian flatly refused to heed them.

Whatever you need that to be; I want to give it to you. I am yours.

I meant it when I said that and I can do this for him. For us, the painter thought resolutely. And maybe, maybe he won’t leave me behind.

It was love that had him turn and stride out of the room. Love that swallowed the fear of what he was going to offer and what it might mean. Love that gave him the ability to armour himself with the facade he needed to make this work.

He opened the door and saw them holding each other in the living room. Beloveds, he yearned and took a breath. No, he lectured silently. Trevor had comfort from Sypha now. He doesn’t need that from you. Now he needs an outlet for his fury. He needs to be reminded what you can give him. That you would do anything for him.

Adrian slammed the door and Trevor and Sypha turned to him. The blue eyes of the sculptor pierced him and it was like Trevor looked right through him. Your family suffered for the vanity of mine, Adrian thought. Skin burning, anger surging, he looked at the man he loved and all he saw was pain. 

“Adrian—” Sypha began but he cut her off. 

“Get out,” Adrian told her and watched shock bloom over her face. “You won’t want to see this.”

He turned to Trevor, whose face was rising concern and disbelief. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

Desire, awareness, dismay and anger surged over Trevor’s face. “Adrian, wait a minute, I—!”

In three steps the painter was at his side. I’m so sorry, he thought again and it was a deep, hideous ache. He slapped Trevor full across the face as hard as he could. Hurt me, he begged inside. Let me give this to you.  

Just as he’d hoped, the sculptor’s temper bloomed hard and fast to the surface. “What the fuck?!” Trevor snarled and yanked Adrian’s arm back. 

Sypha’s voice was urgent and alarmed. “Guys, this isn’t—.”

The blonde tossed his hair back and pulled deep within himself for the numb place that allowed him to become what the world needed him to be when he couldn’t escape. “Can’t take a little slap, Belmont? Try it. I know I can. I want you to.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you are doing Adrian but…” Trevor started to say, and Adrian laughed, low and careless.

“Seeing if all the talk was really worth it. You said you wanted to fuck me. I’m telling you to, and how I want it, and you’re copping out.” The words hurt but he barbed them, baiting Trevor’s possessiveness. “Maybe I need to go find someone who’ll give it to me.”

Each word was like a leaden bomb in the depths of his heart. This was not how he wanted this to be between them, but he understood that what his family had done was inexcusable. This was what the painter could give him.

“Adrian, stop! Trevor, don’t—!” Sypha was right between them and gently put her hand on their shoulders. 

“He’s right,” Trevor said without looking at her. “You should go.” 

I knew it, Adrian thought with a brutal wrench from his heart. He needs this.  

“Fuck that, I will be damned if I am going to watch you two do this!” Sypha said angrily and the painter just closed her off. He would have to explain to her later, apologize later. There was only one lover at a time he could make things right with.

He looked Trevor in the eye and said, “Whatever you think you’ve got, I can take it. And then some. I want it hard and I want it to hurt.”

In the depths of Trevor’s eyes, he saw a glimmer of concern spreading. “You want me to hurt you?” he asked and Adrian could hear the doubt in his voice.

Don’t let him see it, don’t take this from him, Adrian thought. It’s all you can give.

The painter cocked a brow, looked down his nose and snorted with disdain. “Well you can try, but we’ll see if you can even—!”

Trevor pulled his hair back and Adrian gasped. When the sculptor’s teeth were on his throat, he moaned as need jumped. It doesn’t hurt, he thought and felt guilty.

“Harder damn it,” he grated out and winced when Trevor’s teeth sunk in. It was too hard but it fed into his need to sooth Trevor and accept punishment for his part in all of this. 

No one knew, because there was no other way to keep you and Adrian safe, he heard his father say again.

Adrian laced his fingers into Trevor’s hair and remembered the time in the studio. How the sculptor’s control snapped when he pulled his hair. He yanked, hard enough that Trevor’s teeth broke his skin as he was jerked back from his throat. The blonde felt the blood and ignored it.

“Do better Belmont, I said hurt me for fuck’s sake.” Like a distant peal of a bell, he heard a door close. Relief tumbled. Sypha had left.

There was something in Trevor’s face that excited him and made him want to weep. When the sculptor wrapped his hand around Adrian’s throat, the painter felt twin slices of lust and fear. He squeezed and the blonde gasped.

“Are you sure?” his lover asked and Adrian’s brain screamed at him to stop. Instead, his heart spoke.

“Did I fucking stutter?” the painter said sarcastically. 

“No,” Trevor said slowly. “You didn’t.” He released him and pointed to the bedroom. “Get your ass in there then.”

There was nothing playful about the order, nothing kind or understanding. It hurt, even as Adrian accepted it. He went to the bed that the three of them had slept in last night, curled up into each other and holding Trevor. If the painter was lucky, what would happen in this bed now would mean he would have more nights like that.

He stopped at the edge of the bed and turned back. “How do you want me?” he asked, heart sliding into the pit of his stomach like a dejected slinky creeping down crumbling stairs.

There was something dark and threatening in the way Trevor stood in the doorway, a brooding silhouette of sensual menace. What are you thinking? Adrian wanted to ask. He was too afraid of the answer. Too afraid of the rejection he was sure were waiting in the words he would ask for.

He linked his hands and felt himself start to twist them. No, don’t show him how nervous you are, he thought. Show him it’s okay, you want what he wants.

“I assume that I should be naked,” he said and hid the tremble of his hands by pulling his shirt tails out of his pants. 

“Yes,” Trevor said, stepping into the room with a distinctly decisive air. He closed the door behind him and it was like a gunshot in Adrian’s ears.

“I’ll strip then,” Adrian said, reaching for his belt. The sculptor stepped to him and shoved him, hard enough that it lifted him off his feet and threw him back onto the bed. Adrian resisted the urge to curl up into it defensively.

Instead he propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Trevor. I love you, he thought, looking at a face he adored, transformed into a mask of passion and temper. Belmont wrenched his own t-shirt over his head and put his hand to his belt. Eyebrow raised, Adrian’s hand went to his blouse buttons. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Trevor ground out and leaned over. With one hand he tore Adrian’s shirt open, buttons flying. The seams ripped into the blonde’s skin and Adrian felt his alarm kick up another notch. 

Trevor was so strong, and Adrian forgot it because he never used it against him. The blonde was accustomed to him being gentle and considerate. 

Yes, you are used to him taking care of you, his heart whispered. Now you will take care of him. Give him what he needs.

Trevor wrenched his shirt down his arms and it caught at the buttoned cuffs. Belmont’s gaze raked down his torso and he bent to Adrian’s scar. The painter had a split second to think of how wonderful his attention to this extraordinarily sensitive and vulnerable place on him was, when Trevor sunk his teeth into the middle of it. 

Sensation exploded inside of him and Adrian bucked with a fearful whimper. There was pleasure but there was pain, real pain, here. He could feel the prickle of impending tears in his nose and swallowed them back. He would not cry, even as he felt fear creeping in.

Then he became aware of Trevor twisting his shirt into a coiled rope. It tightened on his wrists until his hands tingled and then the sculptor pulled. Adrian was forced down on his back and he gulped. Keep your mouth shut and your emotions under control, he told himself. 

Trevor worked down his scar, biting and worrying the twisted tissue until Adrian was writhing. Broken, sad mewling sounds worked their way from his throat and the sculptor pulled the end of the shirt through the bind to secure it. Hands free, he jerked Adrian foreward and set his teeth against a slim hip bone. 

“Tell me, Tepes,” Belmont breathed against his flesh and bit down. Adrian felt his skin break and the sharp sting forced a tear to escape from one eye. He wiped it away with his shoulder. “W-what?” he managed to answer, working to keep his tone even. 

“Does it hurt?” the brunette asked roughly. “Is this what you wanted?” 

Yes and no, Adrian thought, but what I’ve done to you is worse. Still, he didn’t want to lie and–. Trevor slapped his face and shock had Adrian’s lips parting. 

“I asked you a question.” Adrian’s eyes flew to his lover’s and there was such grief there that the painter felt utterly helpless. He didn’t want to lie; he didn’t want to do this but he was caught by the inescapable destruction of what his father had done. Caught by what Trevor needed from him.

He gave the sculptor the truth he could. 

“I want you,” he said and he spread his legs to him. He couldn’t see Trevor’s eyes, his lashes shielded him as he looked down at Adrian’s parted thighs. The hands he adored went to the painter’s belt and Adrian closed his eyes.

--- 

Trevor wanted to vomit. This was everything he never wanted to be and his mind was shrieking uncontrollably at him to stop. But he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to keep Adrian.

When the painter had strode in here and demanded Trevor fuck him and hurt him, it had taken a moment for the brunette to understand. 

He knew that Adrian liked Trevor’s possessiveness. There was a joyful surrender that the blonde would give him when they made love. What happened between them had always been filled with trust. That trust had been broken now.

How do you re-establish trust? He thought. You have prove it. 

Adrian felt like there was no one he could trust right now. He needed Trevor to prove that he would do anything, be anything, that Adrian needed. That he would fulfill the needs Adrian had asked him for before, and Trevor had denied.

I refused him because I didn’t want to hurt him and now he is telling me that was what he always wanted, the sculptor thought with sorrow. It’s a test. Will I be what he needs in at least one aspect of our lives, or will I fail him again?

Trevor didn’t want this, ever, but he knew that Adrian needed this from him. His fear of losing his beloved, just as they’d discovered each other, was an animal clawing at his belly. The animal was frantically, desperately tunnelling into the safety of what it needed the most. It would cross literal fire to get it.

I love you, he thought as he unbuckled Adrian’s belt and forcefully stripped down his pants. And if this is what it takes to show you that, I will do it.  

It was true that Adrian brought out something in him that could be wild and unrestrained, but he would never have said it was something vicious. The sculptor could do rough and tumble with the best of them but cruelty for the sake of pain was something he took no pleasure in. It was abhorrent to him and edged into a territory that reminded him of his 18th birthday. 

He looked at the shuddering stomach, the beautiful, sharp hips and pale skin already wearing wounds from him. Trevor gave himself a moment to breathe. The nausea rolling through him threatened to undo his composure completely. It was a blessing that he wanted Adrian as fiercely as he did because otherwise, Trevor wasn’t sure he could stay hard enough to do this.

One long lick down the nasty bite he’d left, tasting blood like tears on his tongue. The ugliness of this was festering inside of Trevor like a crushed orange teeming with ants and his stomach rolled again. He never wanted to touch Adrian like this. Spanking and hair pulling was one thing, but making him bleed was another. 

But this is about what he wants, Trevor thought, and forced his lips away from the trailing kisses he was leaving above the waistband of the painter’s underwear. He wanted to ask again, to confirm that this was what his lover wanted from him, but he couldn’t bear to hear that it was, one more time. 

Instead he peeled back Adrian’s Gucci briefs and inhaled warmth, lavender and licorice. Anticipation wormed into his trepidation; this man was beloved incarnate. “You are beautiful,” he whispered without thinking, and remembered that sweetness was not what Adrian wanted from him. 

He stood back and stared at him. Look at him. Eyes on the long, pale form, he thought, So fragile. The joy of knowing Adrian was his was drowning inside the apprehension. Even as Trevor swallowed fear, he was struck by Adrian’s beauty. So stunning.  

The painter lay on the bed like the quiet, blue moment before the sun peeked over the horizon and the day began. Infinite waiting, infinite glory, and ephemeral surrender. Chest heaving, skin goose-bumped, hands bound above his head, Adrian watched him. 

It sickened him that the painter could want this from him, but Trevor felt powerless to refuse him. His pink tongue ghosted out of his mouth for a moment, and Trevor hissed. Adrian smiled so sweetly that Trevor’s heart shattered. 

I cannot fail him, the sculptor thought. He closed his eyes and swallowed his despair. 

He missed the shudder and the fear because he did. Instead, that sweet smile came to him behind his closed eyes and he knew he couldn’t look Adrian’s face and be what the painter needed him to be. 

“Get on your knees,” he said and turned to the closed door to go to the bathroom for the lube.

--- 

Sypha was holding her shoulders and shaking. She’d successfully staved off vomiting but her gag reflex was still acting up. Her skin was crawling and she felt tears on her face. The two people she loved more than anyone else in the world were utter strangers destroying each other in there, and she couldn’t understand why. 

She heard Adrian whimper through the door and there was fear in it. Sypha pressed her hands to her ears and gagged. I want to go. I don’t want to know about this, she thought. But I have to stop this, there is no coming back from it.

She rocked on the floor outside their bedroom, tears streaming down her face. Adrian never, in a million years, would want to be genuinely hurt. 

Rough sex? Spanking, hair pulling, hickeys? Yeah, sure, if the mood was right, she could totally see it. But pain? Like, blood, violence, wounding? Never. She was as sure of that as she was her own name. 

So, what was he doing? She wondered. And why was Trevor going along with it? 

She stood and paced into the bathroom, the harsh overhead lighting like a glaring spotlight drilling into her brain.

And why was Trevor going along with this? That didn’t make any sense to her. The sculptor could certainly be wild and animalistic in the bedroom. But he was never brutal. They’d been very honest with each other about what they liked and what they wanted to try. That had never been something he’d said he wanted.

Granted, they hadn’t had the opportunity to do everything that they’d talked about, but he never once indicated a desire to force or abuse, not even as a roleplay concept. He’d even spoken about his strength and wanting to be careful with it and the importance of safeguards.

“Does it hurt?” She heard Trevor ask in a low growl, voice thick with emotion. “Is this what you wanted?” 

There was a crack of sound that made her flinch. Someone had been slapped, hard. “I asked you a question,” Trevor’s voice was an awful threat. It was the voice of a stranger.

“I want you,” she heard Adrian answer and the anguish in it was enormous. 

How can Trevor not hear it? she wondered. Does he just not care? The nausea crept up into her throat until she could taste it. 

Sypha would be the first one to admit that she didn’t understand all the nuances of the relationship between Trevor and Adrian. There was a possessiveness there he didn’t have in the same way with her and a submission from Adrian that seemed instinctive and potent but this…this was awful and violent and malicious.

She tried to think of any instance where Adrian had said anything during sex or conversations, where he suggested he wanted discipline or degradation. Nothing was coming to mind. In fact, she distinctly remembered talking to him and Grant last year about consent at an opening. Grant was very much into being roughly handled by his partners. Adrian had confessed after that conversation that he just didn’t understand it.

“Get on your knees,” she heard Trevor order and shuddered.

I have to stop this, she thought.

But what if this is what they want?

It simply can’t be, she thought immediately. I just don’t believe that. I know these men and this is not them. Not even with everything that Vlad said, not even with all the pain between the families now. 

When they got back to the room, Trevor had said that he was afraid of Adrian’s blame and his hate. He’d seen Adrian’s disappointment and his anger when he told them to go back to their room. 

Sypha shook her head. As if either of them was to blame in this! As if it was up to them to make amends—

“Oh my God, that is what they are doing!” she hissed and stared at herself in the mirror. With a rough jerk to bring her dress over her head, Sypha started to strip.  

What had Trevor said in the apartment after the C. Leon argument? she thought.

I love him, Sypha and I can’t do this. I will never be what he needs and if he got hurt because of me…

And Adrian after Carmilla at the Wygol? She reflected.

I want to protect him, Sypha and I can’t. It’s my fault; all of this.

“So ready to take the blame that you don’t even stop to consider that’s what the other person is doing!” she muttered fearfully. She opened the cabinet drawer and withdrew a couple of things. The digital artist knew what she had to do to make this stop before—

And she heard the door behind her open.

--- 

Trevor put his hand on the doorknob, opening the door even as he listened to Adrian shifting on the bed behind him. The ugliness of what had transpired and what the blonde was asking him to do was eating away at him in decimating hunks like a ravenous bear ripping into a beehive.

I cannot believe he wants this. How could I have been so wrong about what he likes? Trevor wondered. His self-disgust, his doubt and his despair were overwhelming him. There was no desire in this, no love. The longer it went on the more unbearable this feeling of self-revulsion became. 

What are your intentions? his heart whispered to him. 

I never intended any of this to happen, I never wanted to hurt him or his family.

Then do not start now, his heart pleaded. Even if he needs you to be this, can you live with what that will make you?

The simple truth spun out with the finality of an asteroid exploding into the earth. I can’t do this, he accepted with misery. I cannot do something that is so fundamentally wrong to me. He could not be this person, ever. 

Trevor put his head in his hands and tried to prepare himself to say goodbye to a future that meant everything to him. There was a soft sound of distress behind him.

“What are you waiting for?” Adrian asked him and his tone was pleading. 

I’m so sorry, Trevor thought. He couldn’t turn, couldn’t answer. To cry now would be manipulative and shaming. He needed a moment, just one, to face the rejection.

“You don’t want me,” Adrian said quietly and it sounded like a goodbye. The kind that would replay in his head until he would go mad or be driven to drink.

“No, it’s not that,” Trevor managed and forced himself to turn. Adrian’s back was to him, his bound hands resting in his lap. He was on his knees as ordered and his body was rigid. The sculptor was struck by how he almost appeared to be praying.

I should have said all fours, Trevor thought. Adrian is so innocent; he didn’t even realize what I was telling him to do.  

“What is it then?” there was a thickness in the painter’s voice that Trevor took for anger. 

I just want to see you one last time. I need to tell you, he thought. “Can you please turn around?” he asked.

“No,” the blonde said. “There is nothing left to say. You should go.”

There it is, Trevor thought, and the pain was so intense that exploded like white cracks across his vision. “I will go,” he said softly. “But could you please look at me first? I need to say something to you.”

Adrian shook his head and his spine was so straight, so tense. Trevor closed his eyelids as the tears burned behind them. Just go, he told himself.

Maybe it was because he closed his eyes. Maybe it was because he held his breath. Whatever the reason, that’s when Trevor heard it in his breathing.

Adrian was crying. 

Horrified, his eyes snapped open and he rounded the bed, grabbing Adrian’s shoulder and turning him. The painter refused to look at him, and instead looked to the side. Frail tears lined his flushed face. 

“I’m so sorry, Adrian. I am! I just can’t.. I can’t do that to you! I wish I could; I wish I could be what you need,” Trevor said, the sickness and grief roaring inside his skull like a pride of lions establishing territory.

Adrian was trying to hide behind his hair and Trevor pushed it out of the way. The blonde’s tears fell, each one an enormous foot from the giants of guilt, leaving footprints in Trevor’s heart. “I wanted to be what you needed,” Adrian whispered. “But you don’t want me anymore, not even like this.”

Shock as vast as the heavens and as breathtaking as leaping from a plane burst through him, even as hope quietly raised its hand. “What are you talking about Adrian? I just don’t want to hurt you. Of course I still want you!”

“It makes sense you wouldn't," the blonde whispered. "My family hurt you. I can’t make it fair, and I can’t lose you.” Adrian still wasn’t looking at him, a weeping angel in the midst of a tangle of emotions and dark sheets.

Oh my God, did he think I wanted this?! Trevor thought, the horror of it spilling from his lips in a furious rant. “I didn’t want this! I don’t want to hurt you… to do this to you and you...," he could see it now, plain as day. "You don’t want it either! Why did you say that you did!”

“I don’t have anything else I can give you,” Adrian gave a half-hitched sob, looking at his hands. “I have failed you in every way possible, and someone needs to be punished for this. For what my family has done to yours. I wanted to give that to you. You need to punish me.”

The relief that staggered Trevor was only beaten back by the stricken fury at what might have happened. They would have done something neither one of them could have lived with, and for what?!? 

“Holy fucking hell, that is so fucked up, Adrian,” Trevor said harshly. “I don’t want punishment; I don’t want penance. I especially don’t want either from you!” He shook the painter gently. “Look at me!”

Liquid gold drowning with emotion met his eyes and Trevor shuddered. The pain there was laced with a fear that he understood only too well. There was only one way to make Adrian understand.

“Oh my God, Adrian, don’t you get it? I love you.” 

Adrian’s eyes widened with shock and his breath caught. Trevor thought, We are both so stupid. 

“I love you so much! I was afraid you would hate me for what this did to your family,” Trevor said, the words rushing out of him. “I hated hurting you like this! I was doing this because I thought you wanted—Fuck it!” 

He pushed the painter down onto his back, straddled him and kissed him, murmuring apologies and words of adoration into his mouth. Adrian bucked up into him and met his lips with eager joy. Yes, the sculptor thought, desire singing the tips of his fingers and racing down his limbs. Trevor speared his hands into locks of golden silk and felt that sweet surrender and trust move under him.

This is what I wanted, he thought. Everything I needed.

“I love you, Trevor,” Adrian whispered against his lips. “So much, I can’t stand it! I had to give you something so you wouldn't leave me. Something that would convince you to let me stay.”

The words exploded inside of him like tectonic plates creating new mountains that would scrape the sky and reform the world. He loves me. Adrian loves me. The universe tilted, spun and reoriented to face the sun that was his love.

I love you, I love you, he thought. And you love me too! The tears that had threatened were coming out now in twin sighs of release and joy. 

“You love me,” Trevor said, gasping against his mouth. “That is what you give me and by God, it is so much more than I could ever deserve. I drown in it, I breathe it. I don’t need anything else from you but it. I love you, Adrian. I love you, and I don’t want to leave, and I never want to hurt you.”

“Trevor,” the painter sobbed out and clutched him close, melting into him in urgent invitation. The sculptor’s desire surged, hot and fierce. “I love you, I’m so sorry. Don’t go, ever, please. I thought, I just…” He clung to the brunette and raked his nails up his back, arching frantically and wrapping his legs around him.

“God, please, I need you, please!” Adrian begged.

“Yes, fuck, yes, we will.” Trevor pressed urgent kisses over his mouth and cheek. “I want you and I want to do this right.” His eyes locked on his beloved he said, “I want to make love with you, Adrian. I want you to tell me you love me when I move inside of you.”

---

I need to be cleansed, it's time to make amends
For all of the fun, the damage is done
And I feel diseased, I'm down on my knees
I need forgiveness, someone to bear witness
To the goodness within, beneath the sin
Although I may flirt with all kinds of dirt
To the point of disease, I want release
All this decay, take it away
Somewhere there's someone who cares
With a heart of gold to have and to hold

-“To Have And To Hold,” Depeche Mode

Notes:

Please give a special "Thank you!!" to buriedwr3ckage for bringing you this chapter a week early because she made my whole fucking week 💖 Your kindness meant the world to me.
---
THEY SAID IT OMGGGGGGG FIFTY FIVE FUCKING CHAPTERS AND THEY FINALLY SAID IT *manical laughter* Look Glitter! It HAPPENED!! 🥳
---
Moodboard: Trevor-Emilo, Adrian-Erik Andersson

Chapter 56: It's like a little prayer

Summary:

You know what this chapter's about. 😉
All 13k of it 🤲👀🔥

Notes:

It Started Out Badly-Chapter 56

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sypha’s relief staggered her and she knelt in the hallway, naked except for her socks and shoes. Tears streamed down her face but they were filled with joy. Thank you God, she thought. Thank you for letting them finally understand each other and for finding the words and for giving them the healing that they both needed in this moment.

“Yes, Trevor,” Adrian moaned, an erotic plea that stroked over her.

Sypha’s immediate instinct was to give them privacy. Everything would be alright now and they deserved time to be alone and to be together. Quietly, she put the items she’d taken from the cabinet out on the floor in a little line and stood. Then she heard Trevor say he needed to get the lube.

Bending for it quickly, she edged it through the crack of the door, rolling it toward the bed and withdrawing her hand. “Sypha!” Adrian cried out with surprise.

She gave a little wave, and said quickly, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude, I was literally just leaving, really!” and started to close the door.

“Don’t go, please!” Adrian said. “Come here, come–!”

“Sypha, he loves me!” Trevor said with such exuberant glee that she grinned. 

No shit, Trevor, she thought with amusement. But it was a beautiful thing to hear him say it out loud and know he felt it in his heart.

She peeked around the door to see Adrian and Trevor tangled up together. Adrian was completely naked and Trevor was shirtless. Adrian’s shirt was hanging in a weird, ropey tangle from one arm and they were grinning at each other, lips inches apart even as tears coursed down their cheeks.

Adrian gave him an exasperated look and a little smack on his bicep, even as he kissed his lips. “Of course I fucking love you, Trevor Belmont! It was so obvious for literal–!” Trevor bent his head, tucking into the blonde’s neck just under his ear.

The painter’s eyelashes fluttered and he loosed a breathy moan that tingled under her skin like a sparkling night sky. “Ohhh, I do love you so much,” Adrian whimpered. “Yep, I...ohhh.”

Happiness splintered through her like the enthusiastic warble of chickadees at play. Have a good time guys, she thought and eased back into the hallway. Adrian’s eyes popped open.

“Hey!” he said indignantly. “We are having a happy ‘we-are-in-love’ moment, where do you think you are going?”

Trevor’s head snapped up. “For real, Sypha, what the fuck? At least come give us a congratulatory kiss, or some shit.”

“I thought you’d want some time alone,” she started to explain and Trevor’s smile was slow and knowing. Once she’d seen a cover on the National Geographic of a panther grinning over its kill. The dangerous possessiveness for what belonged to it, and the triumphant certainty it could keep it. Trevor’s smile was precisely the same.

“Fair enough assumption. I’m gonna fuck his brains out,” he agreed, still grinning, “but first we are cuddling and crying. Manly shit. Want to stay?”

Adrian nodded eagerly and put out a hand to her. Slender fingers wiggled enticingly. “Please?” he asked.

I can never say no to you, she thought and smiled. When she opened the door wider, both men’s easy smiles sharpened into something aware and needy. 

“Um, you’re naked?” Adrian said and Sypha laughed. “Not complaining though.”

How observant of you Mr. Tepes, she thought. “Yes, I was going to do something,” she pointed to the pile at the floor, “but then you two figured it out.”

Trevor’s eyes roved over her with frank appreciation. “You could still do the thing, you know. Maybe we need to do more figuring.”

She shook her head gently, coming over to the bed and pausing to scoop up the lube before she knelt down, and kissed Adrian’s forehead tenderly. “No. I do want to come give you both congratulatory kisses, and tell you how happy I am that you’ve told each other, but then I will go.”

Adrian’s hand snaked around her head, lean, insistent strength holding her close. He sighed contentedly. “What if we wanted you here though?”

Sypha looked up at Trevor. He nodded. “We really do, Sypha.” His grin grew wicked. “You can watch me wreck him.” She could hear it in his voice, Trevor had every intention of reducing Adrian to a moaning, begging puddle.

Lust jumped in her belly. “It’d be a hell of a show,” she said with wide eyes. Hot doesn’t even begin to cover it, she thought.

“It feels right,” Adrian said simply. “For all of us to be here.” He kissed her jaw with little presses of his lips, each one like a chant for her presence.

Trevor bent down and kissed her, lips tasting of tears and joy. It was sweet and slow, drugging her into compliance. “Stay,” he whispered against her mouth.

---

Adrian’s desire was a floating cloud of spun sugar fantasy. It stretched and ballooned inside of him with buoyant sweetness. When Sypha’s little hand appeared with the lube and a wave, it had been hysterical and wonderful. Now everything was good and everything was right.

Both his lovers were here. Sypha was working the tangle of his shirt off his wrist and Trevor was cradling him gently, whispering how much he loved him and how he would love him forever. Every stroke of Trevor’s hands were tender golden threads braided into the perfection of the moment.

He loves me. The pure, joyful ecstasy of it was a soft rain that simply refused to stop giving. The waters swelled, overflowed, burst through walls of grief and loss and filled the spaces with a hope so profound he pulsed with it. 

They both love me and they are mine, he thought. I am theirs.

Even the shattering of his relationship with his father receded behind this moment and behind the knowledge that his future was here; right beside him, over him, holding him. It was a blissful certainty that lulled him into pliancy. 

The urgency of only moments before was quieted now. In its place was a boundless giving, as though he could scoop up the wide blue of the endless sky and offer it to his beloveds. There was nothing but time and tenderness for them, and he ached with it. 

There was a grief in Trevor’s eyes as the sculptor touched the broken skin on Adrian’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” the brunette whispered softly. “I hate that I hurt you.”

Adrian looked up at him, and the endless blue sky that he would have offered was already waiting for him inside Trevor’s eyes. The painter shook his head. “It’s not your fault, I asked for it. Please, don’t,” he kissed Trevor’s wrist. “I promise, I can’t even feel it right now.”

Gently, Trevor leaned over and kissed it, his lips so light that Adrian only felt the barest brush of skin. “I love you,” his lover whispered against his neck. The garden of promise in the sculptor’s words bloomed anew.

I will never stop feeling the thrill of hearing that, Adrian thought. I will never stop being reborn in every syllable.

Sypha freed his hand and kissed his palm like it held forgiveness. He brushed his fingers over her cheek and looked at Trevor. “Tell me again,” he asked huskily. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Trevor eased back so he could look at him. “I. Love. You.” He gave such weight to each word, such intent, that they vibrated like an underwater earthquake in the waters of Adrian’s heart. 

I can’t possibly deserve your devotion, the painter thought, but I swear I will spend the rest of our lives showing you what it means to me, each and every day.

“I never, ever want to leave you,” Trevor vowed. “I never want to hurt you, or lie to you, or be apart from you.” The corner of his mouth kicked up and a bemused gleam warned of the impending sass. “And I guess Sypha can hang out too.”

The redhead punched him lightly on the shoulder and scoffed. “Fuck you, Belmont!” she laughed. “You can hang out! I’m not the one who had trouble saying my ‘I love you!’s,’ you jerk!”

And you encouraged me, time and again, to say mine, Adrian thought. I was so afraid, and I could have had this so much sooner.

“Thank God you didn’t,” Adrian said with feeling and a quick grin for her. “We’d all be utter wrecks by now if it weren’t for your open-heartedness.”

He looked at Trevor tenderly, tracing the line of his collarbone. The contradiction of soft and strong fascinated him. “I had trouble too,” he confessed. “It was so hard. I was so afraid you would leave me; so scared that once again, I wouldn’t be enough.” 

Trevor shook his head vigorously, brows knit and a sorrowful frown playing on his lips. “Don’t say that,” the brunette murmured. “You are more than enough, you are everything.” Trevor kissed his shoulder, the soft press of lips like a little sculpture of love set upon Adrian’s skin. “I love you so much.”

Don’t stop saying it, Adrian silently begged. Say it until every inch of my skin wears the words and I can swallow them whole. It will feed me forever.

“I can’t believe you love me,” Adrian told him and looked at Sypha. “I can’t believe you do too.” 

Putting his hands out to them, his lovers took ahold of him with a warm squeeze of affirmation. Adrian took a breath and tried to keep the moment light. Despite himself, his hands trembled. “You both mean everything to me. Your love means everything. Nothing will ever matter as much to me as you two do.”

Trevor brushed a wide, rough palm over his cheek and Adrian nuzzled in with a contented sigh. Sypha laid her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“It’s not fair that you have all the words, Legs,” Trevor murmured. “You’re saying everything I feel too, but so much better than I could.”

You’ve given me all the words I need, Adrian thought. Now show me. Anticipation bubbled in his belly, the seedlings of desire stirring anew in the rising wind of promised pleasure.

“You could give me a hands-on demonstration,” the painter said invitingly. “You are very good at physical communication.”

Trevor’s smile was slowly sensual. “Yes, I could,” his hand stroked down Adrian’s throat and trailed over the top of his scar. Softly uncurling leaves of anticipation sprung into life under the path of his fingertips. “And I will.”

“Trevor,” he murmured happily and curled into his lover’s hands.

The sculptor's rumbled murmur was distinctly pleased. “I love when you are like this,” he said, and Sypha made an affirmative noise. “So yielding; open to whatever I would give you.”

“Because you always give me what I want,” Adrian replied. “You love me and I hear it in every touch. I feel it in your breath on my skin, and now? I’m holding the words of your love in my heart.”

“Legs,” Trevor said with tender amusement. “You’re waxing poetic here. It’s very sweet.”

“The moment calls for it,” Adrian said and grinned at Sypha. “But maybe I should change the tune. Something appropriately anthemic should be forthcoming when Trevor unleashes his dick, right?”

His best friend snorted, and stroked over his forehead affectionately. “We allll know there’ll be coming.” She grinned at him, a mischievously thrilled pixie with gleaming eyes. “I’m pretty sure you wailing his name is all the music he’s looking for.”

The idea made the blonde’s lust do a little skip and dance with his pulse. Trevor gave a toothy grin of satisfaction. “Not even John Williams could hope to do better than orchestrating that beautiful symphony of sounds.” His tone slid into a seductive growl. “And you both are so very good at making them.” 

Fingernails scraped over the bone of his hip. Adrian’s little gasp of excitement escaped him and Trevor groaned. “Like that,” he rasped. "Just like that.” He ran his thumb over the painter’s lips and Adrian instinctively opened his mouth, his tongue seeking the pad of his thumb.

“Adrian,” Trevor hissed, need shattering the word like ice under a hammer. The hitch of possessive want in his voice revved the driving desire within the painter. Unhurried, Trevor stroked over the wet offering of his tongue. The contradiction between the careful restraint of the sculptor’s touch, and the raging covetousness in his voice was intoxicating.

Take me, claim me, the blonde thought and reached for his lover. Trevor just smiled and kissed over the inside of Adrian’s wrists, one after the other. The careful love of it tangled the emotions inside the blonde, desire and tenderness feeding into each other until the current was strong and true. The brunette clasped Adrian’s hands and eased them over his head, leaning down to take his mouth. As their lips touched, Adrian surrendered to the dreamy haze Trevor was softly demanding, caught in his own helpless devotion.

The kiss was gentle and Trevor tried to put everything he felt into it. There was no grief here, only the giving warmth of a love that thawed all dread and doubt under the life it offered him. You are home, he thought, hands stroking down the pink scar on the slim, muscular frame and tracing the ribs that shuddered under his caress. 

Adrian had given him poetry; words that soothed and stirred. He would give it back to the painter with his voice and with his touch until they both gasped under the truth.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” Trevor murmured, lips rubbing over soft surrender. “You haunted me, even when I didn’t want you to.”

Adrian’s moan was a hard slide across a slippery floor, claws of need raking across the glossy sheen. “I fell in love with you so fast,” he told Trevor. “You kissed me, and I was lost.”  

And just as surely, I am lost too, Trevor thought, fingertips exploring the tautness of the skin just under the curve of his belly button. Lost in a dream that I never thought would come true and from which I wish never to wake. Found inside you; at home in your heart.

“It took you that long?” he teased gently. Glancing up at Sypha he smiled. “Ouch, my ego.”

The redhead grinned, comfortably propped on a hip and one arm beside Adrian’s head. She lazily stroked over the spread of autumn gold spun out in easy curls on the bedspread. “I’m sure it can take the hit,” she snickered and jumped a little when Trevor smacked her ass. The sting of his hand on her bare skin was a little scrape of fingernails down the back of desire.

“Brat,” he said with mock disapproval, even as he laughed. Like that hit? He wanted to say but the dusky, melodic tones of the painter filled in the gap.

“Sypha,” Adrian admonished with a smile that curved pale, rosy lips. “You know darn well I was already drooling over Trevor from the moment I saw him. I didn’t know who to be more jealous of when you told me you slept together.”

“Trust me, we wanted you to be there,” she assured him and he grinned.

She even teased me with you then, Trevor remembered and thought about the studio. How Sypha had begged him to fuck her harder that first time. Will Adrian ask the same? He wondered. His mouth felt dry and he had to swallow.

“We’ll make up for lost time,” Trevor told him, stroking his thumb down the underside of Adrian’s throat. He could feel the rush of the air in the painter’s windpipe, the breath that fed a heart now holding him.

So soft here, Trevor thought as he licked under Adrian’s chin. So secret, like a hollow where you wait to slip love notes into and hope that they find their way home.

“Have I ever told you,” the brunette murmured. “How stunning your skin is? When I saw you in the drawing room splayed out over the plinth like a divine offering, I tried so hard to convince myself that I didn’t want you.” His laugh was self-deprecating. “Which was absurd because I was already falling in love with you.”

Adrian’s smile held a touch of emotion and a curl of pure sin. “All I could think about was the suggestion you two made of a ménage à trois, and how I was definitely going to give myself away if I didn’t calm down.”

“Are you saying we could have done it right then?” Sypha groaned with mock horror. “I was so patient, oh my gosh! All the missed orgasms!!” Her slim fingers gently carded through blonde hair, an assurance she was only teasing. Watching her hands on Adrian was both comfort and anticipation.

“I wouldn’t change our first time though,” Trevor said with heartfelt honesty. “It was perfect.” He spread his palm out over the lean rise of Adrian’s chest, feeling the heartbeat through it. “You both are perfect.”

“It was beautiful,” Sypha agreed. “And crazy hot.”

“I think the word, ‘orgasmic’ fits nicely,” Adrian said, a little hitch on the last words when Trevor traced a finger down towards his heart.

Watching the transformation of Adrian’s flat, pink nipple as it hardened from the expectation of his touch, made his belly tighten. There was a deep-seated need to take and claim in an urgent rush, but this was not the time for that. Not the first time. Not when Trevor wanted to erase the ugliness of what they’d done to each other.

Anticipation was a rising sandstorm inside of him, scouring out the inside of his heart and removing the shame and horror of what had happened. His eyes drifted back to the bloody teeth marks on Adrian’s hip. Thank God he hadn’t been able to keep going. 

Now there was only what was to come, and what was to be. 

With the pad of his thumb, Trevor brushed over the rosy bud of suggestion and Adrian gasped, arching instinctively. “Trevor!” he moaned, his hands clutching at the bedding. The white knuckles and crumpled fabric were a tiny prelude to the pleasure that was to come.

I will make this so good for you, he thought. I swear it. Chasing his fingertips with his mouth, Trevor licked over his nipple, the wild crash of Adrian’s heart against his lips a golden blade of possession that slipped in between his gentle intentions. 

He didn’t recognize it at first because it didn’t take on the primitive immediacy he’d experienced at Lindenfeld’s. Instead it snuck under the barbed wire of restraint on its hands and knees, digging into the tenderness he felt, and burrowing toward the fierce need that always swamped him when it came to this man.

Leisurely Trevor’s mouth cruised over the peaking tip, his fingertips mimicking the circling, plucking caresses on the other nipple. His lover rocked with unrestrained urgency, whispered pleas and demanding cries. It made Trevor sweat, each drop containing a yearning desire that was bleeding into a possessive certainty that commanded the sculptor take what was offered.

Those elegant hands were in his hair now, pulling him closer as though somehow it was possible to have more of his mouth. Trevor struggled to keep his hands gentle in the face of the painter’s increasingly feverish abandon.

I want to give you everything, Trevor thought. I want to have everything from you, as though we could merge into something new. As though if we got deep enough into each other, we would never have to be apart ever again.

It blistered under his skin, a singing, surging throb as endless as the sea and as deeply dark as a trench where monsters lurked. ‘Adrian. Mine. Take,’ it sobbed. Arching over it, like a rainbow breaking the sky with its glory, was the love. 

He is yours, his heart cried. He loves you. Nothing and no one can steal that from either of you. It’s spoken now; given, received and returned. 

Lips on skin that wept his name in tiny, sparkling droplets, the brunette licked in reverent wonder. “Trevor,” Adrian whispered, limbs splayed for him in stark surrender. He tasted like a future where there was no question of the trio, of their shared devotion. There was no gnashing fear that someday he would be alone again.

I will never leave you. I want you. I need you. More than you know. 

Trevor stroked over his scar and kissed it tenderly, like it was a map of what it took to get them here. “I love you,” the painter told him and Trevor shuddered, the words a drifting blanket of stars that warmed and glowed and lit him up from within.

Adrian moved against him in an unending giving that poured into his hands. The long, artistic fingers that were speared in his hair pulled Trevor up until he was looking in a gaze that was endlessly golden; a moon that hung like an omen in the sky.

“I love you, Trevor Belmont.” There was an intensity in his eyes that bit into Trevor’s throat. “I am yours.” 

The admission turned the bite of Adrian’s words instantly vampiric, and acted like dynamite for the possession that had been working diligently to dig through Trevor’s tenderness. The words that he’d demanded from Adrian in the bathroom at Lindenfeld’s were now accepted without question. And they were finally true.

“Mine,” he whispered and bent his head to taste the surrender on the painter’s mouth. His tongue licked across lips that slid against his like hips meeting.

“Make me yours,” Adrian murmured against his mouth, the words like food he’d been starving for. “I’ve waited for you.”

It clamped the steel fangs of a bear trap into his heart and the hand on Adrian’s thigh tightened. No, he warned himself. Be gentle, do this right, don’t–. 

Adrian whimpered a tiny ‘please,’ into his mouth and his hands slipped down to his shoulders, clutching as though Trevor would take them both flying. The sculptor nipped the edge of the painter’s lip, a light scrape that only fed the need to possess.

“Yes,” the blonde groaned in that low, husky way that drove Trevor absolutely feral with need and bucked into him, the strength of his thighs tight around Trevor’s hips. When the welcoming, naked heat of Adrian’s body pressed up against Trevor’s desire, something tightly leashed with the sculptor started gnawing in earnest at its tether.

Trevor’s teeth trailed down his jaw and he deliberately stroked over the side of Adrian’s cock. You are so hard for me, he thought and the knowledge scraped down his belly in a deep furrow that oozed lust. Adrian gasped, snapped his hips into the caress, and pressed his ass firmly against the front of the sculptor's pants.

Inside, I want inside of you, Trevor’s desire screamed. To claim you, love you, hear you beg for me while I feel you clench around me.

Trevor rocked against him, the distinct line of his arousal stark against the fabric of his pants. The rigid shape slipped against the soft cleft of Adrian’s inviting curves and the blonde squirmed against him. Lust danced like water droplets on a hot, oiled pan.  

“Tell me again,” the sculptor rasped against his skin, already falling into the demands of possession without even realizing it.

“Make me yours,” Adrian begged. “I need you.”

It was the plea to be taken. It rang like an echo in a cave through the desire and the love, and vibrated down the spine of lust to awaken the dragon of possession. This man was his already and they both knew it. They’d known it all along.

“Adrian,” Trevor stroked firmly against the side of his throat and pressed the sides of his neck, feeling the frantic pulse scrabble under his touch. “You are already mine.” 

“But I–,” the blonde started and Trevor scraped his nails down a pristine white thigh. The moan that fell from Adrian’s lips was wanton and lost. Red lines rose up immediately on his soft skin, little tracks home, a path leading Trevor inside.

“No,” Trevor told him, breath hot on flushed skin. “You were mine from the moment I saw you. The moment I touched you. I could smell it on you, taste it in the furious words, and the thrust of your hips.”

“Yes. Yours. Yours, Trevor,” Adrian agreed, spreading his legs wider, “and I never want to belong to another man.” The gold in his eyes shone like a promise and love spilled from them like hot metal overflowing a forger’s mold.

“And you never will,” Trevor vowed to both of them, slipping down the blonde’s body with wet tongue and grazing teeth to take Adrian’s cock inside his mouth. You’re mine, and mine alone, he thought with deep satisfaction.

The sharp, shocked gasp was a stolen kiss in the dark and Trevor groaned against the beautiful sensation of Adrian bucking up into his face. The blonde’s long legs tightened against him and those graceful fingers gripped his shoulders fiercely. It was fresh glory to listen to the generosity of Adrian’s sounds and feel his lover’s entire body react to every flick of his tongue and flex of his lips. The desire pounded hot and heavy in his belly, the pleasurable contradiction of taking and being taken building inside his body and lapping up his legs.

There really was nothing like watching Adrian from the vantage point between his thighs. The soft lips working for air, his chest moving with frantic heaving, the long lashes fluttering. 

“Trevor, Trevor, Trevor!” the blonde chanted reverently, each rendition of his name holding fragments of nuance. They seemed to whisper in a series of voices: desire, need, triumph, begging, hope, wonder, joy and love.

I am here beloved, Trevor thought, and I will not leave you. It was a pervading pleasure to feel Adrian move inside his mouth, an undulating promise of how Trevor would move inside him. The brunette curved his tongue and followed the rocking of Adrian’s hips to match his pace, the slide of flesh and sensation of fullness a deeply gratifying pleasure.

Trevor cupped Adrian’s thigh, angling him up and open to his touch. Carefully and deliberately, he stroked his thumb down past the crease of his hip, over the soft, downy rise of his cheek and south, into the heated valley. The rhythm of Adrian’s hips stuttered, his breath caught, and Trevor nuzzled further down on his cock, tenderly devoted in his attention. 

Adrian’s tremble was the ripple of a surfacing koi in the pond of Trevor’s love. I am going to take care of you lover, he thought, and I always will. Softly, he licked up the length of Adrian’s arousal and released him with a harsh pant. The painter whimpered and the brunette soothed him with kisses across the fragile, warm flesh that tightened under his mouth. The scent of quietly rich flowers and a sweet note of licorice kept pace with his tongue.

Like the heart of a lotus, the vulnerable entrance of Adrian’s body was softly radiant and promised a nirvana that every part of Trevor yearned for. When the sculptor pressed his thumb against the waiting clench, Adrian hissed. The tight, tiny whisper of his name was the carnal key to the universe. The brunette smiled, a feral thing of victory and need.

---

Sypha was torn between an intense desire to touch, to stroke, to taste and take, and the powerful ache of abundant joy. Watching the two halves of her heart locked in a world with each other was sensual and erotic, but the deep fulfillment and connection was a poignant caress across her heart.

Adrian shifted against her leg, the long, lean limbs tensed with anticipation as Trevor licked over the crease of thigh and ass. She saw his hand move and the blonde hissed Trevor’s name.

“You look very beautiful today, Adrian,” the sculptor said teasingly from between his thighs. “Welcoming, even.”

The restless need seemed to vibrate out of the blonde, the slim hips minutely rocking, fingers curling in the sheets. “Trevor, you are taunting me and I want–.”

Sypha wanted to moan. The tone was prayerful, begging. Adrian’s surrender was always exquisite and the dynamic with Trevor brought it out of him so naturally. It was a smooth, flowing generosity that covered the moment with sweetness.

“And you’ll get it, soon enough,” Trevor soothed. “But we both want this to be good for you and I promise, it will be.” The intensity of his focus was like a fruit press and the juicy, sugared pulp of desire squeezed out of her under it. He looked at Sypha and nodded.

The lube, she thought immediately. She slipped the bottle across the bed to Trevor with a gnawing sense of anticipation. He winked at her and palmed it. Trevor stroked a fingertip over the shadowed cleft of Adrian’s ass and opened the lube with a flick of his fingernail. 

“Roll onto your belly,” Trevor told him and the eager, fluid grace of the painter’s limbs brought him up on all fours. “Now kiss Sypha,” Trevor said with something hunting a wicked, sly creature inside his voice.

“Sypha,” Adrian said with soft eyes and an adoring smile. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked gently and she sighed.

“I’m very turned on by you two,” she conceded. “I really love to watch.”

“I know what you mean,” the blonde murmured and gasped when Trevor planted a solid, wide palm in the middle of his back.

“Time’s up Tepes,” the brunette said sassily. “I’ll just have to kiss her myself.”

“That’s hardly–!” Adrian started to retort and there was a smack of sound as Trevor’s hand met his ass.

Adrian and Sypha groaned together and she felt the low tingle in her belly. “Ohhhhh, Trevor!” Adrian said and immediately sunk down, leaving his ass high in the air like it was a menu Trevor was going to order from.

“Look at that pretty ass,” Trevor crooned. “Just gorgeous.” Sypha could see Adrian’s blush and the helpless shudder. Desire worked its way steadily down her body. Trevor slid his hand back down to the appealing handfuls and eased one cheek back to drizzle lube into the cleft.

Adrian jumped slightly, gasping, and Sypha stroked over his face. “It’s cold,” he whimpered, and Trevor ran his fingers into the valley, moving over him in slow, gentle caresses. Sypha marveled at the sculptor’s restraint. Adrian couldn’t see his face but Trevor’s focus was pure lust and control. It was in his eyes that the love shone.

“It’s alright lover, I will warm you up,” Trevor soothed and continued to stroke down, the slick sounds riding alongside Adrian’s little moans. 

The press and slide of Trevor’s fingers was a lesson in fraying self-control and blistering need. Adrian knew now, how pleasured he could be by Trevor’s touch, by the feeling of his fingers moving inside him and finding all the wonderful, spectacular places to exploit. He was eager for it and tried to wiggle back onto the finger that was making a slow journey up from the sensitive skin under his balls.

“Impatient much?” the sculptor rasped and the blonde hissed. Frustration made him bolder than he would have guessed and he reached back, grasping Trevor’s wrist to hold him still so that he could ease onto his fingers.

“Cheeky, Legs,” Trevor muttered and licked over where the bones of Adrian’s spine met his pelvis. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked and Adrian felt the slight hesitation of his body resisting the slick, curved fingertip before Trevor slipped inside.

“Ah, oh God yes,” Adrian squirmed back, taking his finger deeply and rocking in bliss. “Please, another? Please, I need–!” Trevor slapped his ass and Adrian bucked, grinding down on his finger. Trevor’s husky groan shuddered against his skin and through the teeth that scraped over the flesh of the painter’s hip and down onto his left cheek.

Eat me alive, he thought. Show me your teeth.

“Yes! Bite me! Trevor, oh Trevor!” he wailed and clutched at Sypha’s hand where it rested on the covers. She entwined her fingers with his and stroked over his face with the other. The contrast of tenderness and sharp demand heightened the clawing desire, shredding the painter’s composure. 

Trevor bit down and the keen tug of his teeth shot fierce bolts of pleasure into his belly. He writhed, uninhibited, on the hand of the sculptor. “You’ve been thinking about this,” Trevor said, a tight snap of words, and Adrian nodded wildly.

“I need you. I want this so badly, Trevor, I–,” Trevor eased another digit inside him in a slick, all-encompassing slide, and crooked his fingers. Sensation exploded in shining fragments through the painter’s body. Adrian arched into his touch, hips pistoning him onto Trevor’s hand while the brunette watched him with parted lips and harsh swallows. 

Now be inside me, Adrian thought. I want to be covered by you. Taken. Undone.

He rocked desperately, unaware that his wailing huffs and throaty grunts of pleasure were not-so-slowly stripping both his lovers of their sanity. Trevor’s grip on his hip tightened, and when he crossed his fingers Adrian would have sworn he went cross-eyed. 

“Inside Trevor, I want you inside of me! Just fuck me, take me, make me beg for it,” he pleaded, half mad with need.

“Babe, you’re going to need to slow down,” Trevor said through gritted teeth, gently thrusting with his fingers. “You’re tempting me to–.”

Be tempted! Stop waiting and take me, Adrian thought frantically. I need you! The painter arched his back high and spread his legs, wanton, heedless, all thought set on enticing Trevor until he took what was his. “Yours,” he whimpered.

“Adrian,” Trevor hissed and the blonde felt the seeking pressure of a third finger slot beside the two. There was a slight stretching sensation that seemed to push the rational limits of his mind and then… A scrape of fingernails across his back as Trevor gathered his hair and wrapped it around his hand, forcing Adrian’s head back until his throat arched, the skin taut when he swallowed. 

Yes, yes, Adrian thought with delirious need. Hold everything I am in the palm of your hand.

Trevor drew him up by his hair until Adrian was kneeling, almost sitting on his hand.

“Now,” Trevor whispered into Adrian’s waiting ear. “Would you like to ride my fingers?”

I want to ride your–! Adrian thought, caution lost in the haze of frustrated desire. The sound he made was a grumpy whine.

“Come on now, pretty Adrian,” Trevor crooned, nipping at a bruise on his neck. “Show me how welcoming you can be.” The sculptor’s fingers carefully spread inside him and there was the all-encompassing feeling of being filled but not quite as deeply as he needed. It made the painter instinctively sink down until Trevor’s hand was trapped between his body and the bed. It still wasn’t enough.

“Show me how you want me to fuck you. How ready you are for me,” Trevor rasped against his skin, the little licks of hot tongue burning through his flesh to dive down his throat. When Adrian swallowed, all he could taste was Trevor.

“Anything,” the blonde whispered and meant it. “Everything. Whatever you want.”

Trevor’s chuckle was darkly sensual, the tightly leashed sound of his lust like a full-body submersion into the sculptor’s need. “Show me.”

Sinking into the grip on his hair, the painter braced his hands on the bed and rolled his hips. The sweet, slick press of Trevor’s fingers inside of him made Adrian’s breath stutter as he licked his dry lips.

—-

“Just like that; look at you,” Trevor marvelled, watching Adrian move in that pretty, wild way that made the sculptor’s mouth go dry. The taut muscles around his fingers clutched him close and the brush of Adrian’s thighs was a tender cradle for his wrist. “So beautiful when you are like this; lost inside your need for me.”

“I always need you,” Adrian moaned, hips rolling. “I am yours, and I want you to show me.”

Beautiful and mine, the sculptor thought. Now and always.  

The thin film of sweat on the pale skin tasted like surrender and Trevor wanted to acquire each and every morsel of it. Each drop wrung out into a pool he could drown in, his dying breath dragging Adrian into every space and cell within him. He leaned over and licked up the pale, flushed skin of his back, wiggling his fingers gently to test Adrian’s readiness. “Trevor!” the blonde hissed, “Please!”

The reduced resistance to the spread of his fingers was one more rotation of the spiked wheel that was crushing his control. Adrian was begging for him and his body was open, excited, and pleasured. As Trevor slipped his fingers from the blonde he thought, I want to make sure he’s satisfied, I want to take care of–.

The painter ground back into him with a distinctly challenging growl. The soft, lean flesh seemed to melt against Trevor’s achingly hard arousal as though there were no barriers between them. The sculptor could feel the upper curves of his ass slide against the skin at the top of his waistband. 

“Oh fuck, Adrian,” he ground out, dropping his hold on his hair to grip his clever, slim hips.

“I want to hear that when you’re inside me,” the blonde demanded, rising up to tuck Trevor’s head into the curve of his throat and wind his arm behind his head. The brunette felt the fingers lace into his hair and pull tight.

The passion exploded inside him and threw tenderness against the wall, pinning it under spears of desire. Trevor murmured against the skin now flushed from his attention and instinctively bit hard, tasting the flavour of Adrian’s submission mingle with his demand for fulfillment. 

“Trevor!” Adrian sobbed. “Just like that, oh, yes!”

The soft yield of skin under the piercing possession of his teeth, the unrestrained wailing of his name, the tight jerk of Adrian’s hands in his hair, the involuntary, hard thrust back into his cock and the leashes of restraint snapped before he knew it.

“Legs,” he growled needfully, hands skating down his thighs to knead and possess. “Say it again. Tell me how badly you want this.”

The blonde shuddered, “Yes, yes I do! I’m yours, and I want you to remind us both.”

Trevor released him, stepping back to unclasp his jeans. Adrian whirled, eager eyes dropping to the sculptor’s hands and nodding frantically, the liquid gold eyes wide and desperate. “Please, oh please,” he said, moving swiftly off the bed to yank at Trevor’s waistband.

The urgency was making it hard to breathe, each jerky movement from limbs normally so graceful was a laugh in the face of the self-control Trevor was trying to maintain. It felt like they passed the need and desire between them, feeding into it with every exchange until it was a howling storm that filled the room.

The rasp of his zipper was a sharp sound of anticipation that split the moment. Then Adrian’s hands were on him, pushing the fabric down and he was licking over Trevor in whispering pants of nonsense that only seemed to breathe flames into the storm of desperation.

“Trevor, so beautiful, so good to me. I love you, I want you, I have to! Give me…” And Adrian swooped over his cock, the words abruptly silenced as he opened his mouth to Trevor’s arousal.

“Fuck!” the sculptor hissed sharply, hips snapping into the sensation of the wet, clutching heat of Adrian’s mouth. The feeling fought for pleasurable dominance over the deliriously gorgeous view of the painter on his knees, cheeks hollowed out, and endlessly golden fields of desire captured in the eyes that watched Trevor as he gratified him.

Look at you, lover, Trevor thought. The flavor of Adrian’s surrender was edged with a distinctive insistence and it was intoxicating. It’s as though knowing you love him gave him the confidence to take what he wants. Trevor savored it, reveling in the new dynamic and enjoying the slippery exchange of control.

Adrian’s strokes evened out and Trevor’s breath stuttered. The elevator of pleasure skipped several floors in a rush towards orgasm within a simple moment. I could come like this, he thought, but that’s not what either of us want right now. 

Trevor traced one blunt finger over the thirsty lips stretched around his cock. “Would you like me to be inside you in another way?” he asked.

Adrian purred in his throat, stroking his hands down Trevor’s thighs, the little bites of his fingernails small swallows of surrender. The flick of his tongue was like a knock on the door, a request to be permitted to explore all possibilities within him. Trevor was more than ready to answer.

The blonde opened his mouth and slurped up Trevor’s cock with such obvious relish that he quaked. “I think we both know that’s a ‘yes’,” Adrian said, getting off his knees. The excited heat of the golden eyes was like a midday sun that left his skin burning.

You love me, Trevor thought again and cupped his face. “I want to make love with you, Adrian,” he murmured and watched the tenderness transmute the desire into something deeper.

“Love me, Trevor; make love with me,” the blonde whispered back with a quietly joyful brush of lips over his. The kiss was softer, quieter than the heat between them and it sweetened the scorch into something patient. When Trevor eased back, his control was roped in by the silent promise that Adrian would only feel pleasure.

The painter smiled and turned to get onto the bed. The gently tousled strands of blonde shifted over his shoulders as he looked back. “What’s the best way?” he asked Trevor.

“On all fours is traditional for a reason,” Trevor said, swallowing past lust. “But I’m voting on your back so I can watch you take me.” And gauge your comfort, he added silently. 

Trevor wasn’t sure he would try for full depth this time. If Adrian was on his back it would be easier to see how he was handling it and control how much speed and depth Trevor gave him. He managed to keep a straight face remembering Adrian’s yelped dismay about Trevor’s size yesterday. It was a funny memory but also one that reminded him how important gentleness would be. We’ll be on the same page this time, I promise, he vowed.

“And I get to watch you, watching me,” Adrian said with a whoosh of breath. “Which, I have to tell you, sounds phenomenally hot.”

He climbed onto the bed and grinned at Sypha. “And you get to watch us both, lucky woman.”

She smiled back, anticipation sketched across her face. With a wink and a laugh she said, “Oh I know it. This has been…” she sighed. “A feast.”

Trevor worked the tangle of his pants off of his ankles and laughed too. “And we all want dessert.”

“As long as there’s whipped cream in it,” Adrian quipped, settling against the pillows, long limbs flowing over the sheets like liquid marble.

“Want the creamy filling do you?” Trevor teased back and then paused. “Actually, I should ask you if you’d like a condom? I’m fine with—” Adrian’s face was so outraged he had to laugh. “Or not?”

“What is it with you trying to deny me your come, Trevor?” The duchess voice was back and Adrian actually sat up and crossed his arms to accusingly glower at the sculptor. “You don’t have to swallow, Adrian,” the blonde mimicked his accent and Sypha giggled.

I don’t sound nearly that sexy, Trevor thought, trying not to grin. Or that regal.

“You don’t have to feel my come inside you, Adrian,” the painter continued in his ‘Trevor’ voice. “Not that you’ve wanted me to for ages or anything, and even the thought of it makes you hard. No, you obviously would prefer a condom.” The blonde sniffed with irritation but Trevor could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The brunette was laughing now, even as his mouth watered. He loved it when Adrian talked to him like this; all snotty and royal. But to hear that he had fantasized about Trevor fucking him to this extent was brilliant firecrackers inside his pelvis. 

“I’m an idiot apparently, but at least a considerate one?” he offered with a wide grin.

Adrian softened. “Too considerate. Trust me when I say I want everything you’ll give me. I want to feel it, to know it. Have it for myself.”

Sypha murmured an affirmation and Trevor’s stuttered exhale expressed the feeling he held in his heart but couldn’t form into words. “Lie down, Legs,” he told him and the painter gracefully settled back. 

Trevor grabbed the lube and squeezed it out over his hand, applying it to his cock as straightforwardly as possible. If he thought about being inside Adrian too much he wasn’t going to last long. And I refuse to rush this, he thought, looking at the lowered lashes and fixed gaze of the painter as he watched Trevor’s hand move over his cock. Don’t worry, he thought, I will take care of you.

Sypha held up a pillow with an enquiring look and Trevor nodded. “Great idea, Sypha, thanks,” he said. “I’m going to angle your hips up, Adrian.” 

When Adrian gracefully arched those hips just like he would into Trevor, the sculptor had to bite back his groan. “We want to make sure we get a good angle, yes?” the blonde murmured seductively, looking up at Trevor through his lashes.

Trevor wasn’t sure who would be begging by the end of this. Adrian was a tumbling craving under his skin, a persistent ache of sweet spice on his tongue, and right here, right now, he was completely and utterly his.

He considered it a personal triumph that he got the pillow positioned while Adrian’s cock bobbed cheerfully literal inches from his face. The minute the pillow was in place, he went in for the kill. “Trevor! I thought–?!” Adrian cried, legs snapping around his shoulders and hands flying to his hair as he swallowed Adrian’s cock.

Trevor moved his head impatiently; hungry, yearning, and intent on smothering Adrian with pleasure and anticipation. Cupping the sides of thighs that tensed against his hands, he set a demanding pace that thrust the painter in and out of his mouth in long, wet slides. 

“Wait! I want to come with you inside me, not–!” Adrian begged, rigid fingers digging into his scalp and hips rocking into him. And Trevor knew the painter was right where he wanted him to be.

Watch me lover, he thought. Watch us fulfill this need, share the love between us. He released Adrian’s cock, kissed over the bloody bite on the slim hip, and settled himself between his legs. Aching, ready and needy, he took a breath.  

One moment between what was and what will now be forever, he thought. 

His hands dropped to Adrian’s thighs once more, cradling his legs to his hips and feeling the clasp of the painter wrapped around him. He looked down. Adrian was open and ready, the contracting welcome asking him in. Trevor traced a fingertip over the glistening, slicked entrance before lining their hips up. 

“Look at me,” he demanded from his lover.

His eyes flew up to Adrian’s and he was caught in the oceans of golden beseeching, the tormented desire, and the desperate yearning. “You’re mine,” he said and pressed gently against Adrian’s entrance, rocking against the slippery, delicate skin. It was an otherworldly pleasure that panted under his skin like a cheetah hunting a gazelle and he shuddered.

Adrian gasped, his hand flying to clutch Trevor’s arm. “Trevor, Trevor,” he said, his grip tightening and his knees pressing into the sculptor’s side as his limbs tensed.

“Adrian,” Trevor soothed, stroking over the blond’s cock. “Relax, lover,” Trevor crooned, brushing easy hands down his calves. Adrian moaned softly and Trevor felt the muscles in his body soften. 

There you go, he thought. Don’t overthink it, and your body will let it happen.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told Adrian, “I love you.” He could feel the easing clench of Adrian against the tip of his cock and fought the urge to thrust. Easy does it, he thought, even as he swallowed hard. “I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you.” He turned his head to kiss the hand on his shoulder. “And ached, every moment since.”

“I want you,” Adrian moaned, reaching up to touch Trevor’s face, his legs falling open again. The additional relaxation of his body permitted Trevor’s entry. The brunette eased inside and the guttural groan that escaped him was like the warning rumble of a volcano erupting. The blonde’s full body clasp against his skin was absurdly, deliciously, overwhelmingly good. Adrian gasped, his fingers flexing against Trevor’s cheek, eyes wide and staring before his long lashes fluttered, sharp cheekbones prettily flushed and his pink tongue peeking out like a winking eye. His breath was abruptly released in a shallow little pant.

I’m trying. The thought was a flash of coherency in the storm of sensation. I’m trying not to hurt you, but I knew, I knew it would be like this and this is everything I needed, everything I thought it would be, and you are so tight it is literally breaking my mind and I just have to–! 

“Trevor!” Adrian rolled his hips and the brunette moved inside him. Adrian’s nails scraped over his skin with frantic urgency and he squirmed against the sculptor.

“Adrian,” Trevor ground out through clenched teeth.

Don’t hurt him, love cried. Don’t rush, don’t–! Control skittered like a thrashing badger in a noose, clawing, growling, and frenzied. The otherworldly sensation of Adrian’s whole body clutching around him gobbled at the sculptor’s control like a starving beast. Trevor took a deep breath. This is actual heaven and actual hell, he protested silently. Feeling you move like this around me. I can’t take it. I can’t!

“Trevor,” Adrian whispered. His legs crossed over Trevor’s back and the embrace of their bodies was the clasp of desire itself. Adrian abruptly arched, using his twined legs as leverage to bring the sculptor close. The movement sank Trevor deeply into his lover and he could have sworn the world narrowed into the join of their bodies. The painter wailed so prettily that Sypha moaned too. 

Legs,” Trevor choked out. “Son of–! Are you alright? Are you–?” Adrian’s abdomen flexed and Trevor felt him clench tightly. Oh fuck, the sculptor thought abruptly, breath and words catching in the whirlpool of pleasure. If he keeps that up, I won’t be able to stop, I’ll just–

“Yes, yes! I–so good, so fucking good,” Adrian sobbed out, the pleasure falling from his voice like sips of water in a desert. Relief was the pilot at the controls of lust. Trevor put his hands under Adrian’s hips, gripping him tightly, and he gently eased further into Adrian.

“Trevor! Just like that,” his fingernails bit into the brunette’s shoulders like little demanding teeth. “Fuck me, please, please, I’ve waited, I want! Please!” Adrian begged, eyelashes fluttering against his flushed skin.

Trevor was not going to survive being buried inside Adrian as he begged for him in that pretty, polite way. He was hugging the sculptor with every muscle and inch of skin pleading to be claimed, the entreaty taking audible form between those parted, plush lips, breaths exhaling in throaty moans and face etched with a hundred different variations of pleasure.

Trevor rocked gently and Adrian rocked with him, the sensations drawing out long strands of pleasure in deep, languid pulls. He wasn’t fully inside of the painter, but he was considerably further than he’d intended to be, thanks to Adrian’s eager insistence. Trevor wanted to be sure the blonde was comfortable before he actually started to really move. 

He watched his lover, feeling the quiver of his muscles adjusting to being claimed like this. Adrian’s face held an emotional thunderstorm, and love and lust rode each other like savage beasts. “Adrian,” he stroked over one flushed cheek. “Are you alright?”

The blonde’s long lashes fluttered open and his glazed, knowing eyes settled on the sculptor. Wide golden plains stretched limitless out to him. “No,” the painter gasped and Trevor’s heart stopped. 

Oh no.

The edges of his eyes crinkled and he gave Trevor a sassy eyebrow arch, looking down his nose. “I’m not alright because you aren’t moving,” he said breathlessly and Trevor could have throttled the blonde even as relieved amusement washed over him.

You're such a duchess, Trevor thought. So determined to have it your way regardless of your personal comfort!

Sypha snickered and Trevor threw her a withering look. She knew damn well he was afraid of hurting Adrian, and his restraint was important for this to be a good experience. “You’ve been told Belmont,” she said with amusement. “Get that ass in gear.”

“Listen,” he began sassily but Adrian cut in, cupping his face possessively and drawing his gaze back to him.

“Your attention should be on–,” Adrian said, voice tight and low. He never finished his sentence because Trevor started to withdraw. “Oh yes, just like that!,” the blonde whimpered as he arched up, sliding Trevor back inside the slippery, clinging heaven. “That’s what I want, just–!”

“Fuck!” Trevor groaned. “You and me both. You feel perfect,” he brushed over Adrian’s throat with one hand, tracing the red and violet bite marks with possessive joy. “You’re perfect.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. Adrian surpassed everything he could have possibly thought of. In all his fantasies about this moment, in every lust-filled dream, there was never this feeling of completion, never a pleasure so intensely sharpened by the grit of devotion. 

“I love you,” he told Adrian, trailing his hand down his body, palming his cock. The painter gasped, quaking against him, and Trevor thrust slowly, pumping his prize in tandem. The helpless dance of Adrian’s limbs seeking release was a beautiful vision.

“I love how you move against me.” Trevor ran his thumb over the dewy slick at the tip of his lover’s cock and watched Adrian’s eyes haze with desire. He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked. “I love how you taste when you want me.” Adrian’s lips parted, eyes half-lidded with lust. “How you taste when you’re mine,” Trevor said, the words a closed fist of slippery emotion.

“I love when you touch me,” Adrian whispered back, moving his hand down between them. Trevor’s breath caught when he felt Adrian’s fingertips tracing a pattern over the base of his cock. “And I love the way you feel when you move inside me.” 

Adrian ran his fingers up to where they were joined and squeezed the sides of the sculptor’s cock between his fingers. “Give us both what we want, Trevor.”

Anything, everything, he thought, remembering Adrian’s words. Whatever you want.

He eased back and thrust. Both men hissed needfully, and Trevor panted while Adrian held onto his shoulders. Each time Trevor withdrew, the blonde squeezed and every time the sculptor thrust, he rocked into it. The pace was deliciously, painfully, gloriously slow, drawn out like an unfurling wing seeking the lift of the air. Sweat pooled in the small of Trevor’s back as love fought desire. Love won. It always would.

Little expressions of pleasure, disbelief, frustration and need stampeded across Adrian’s face like pilgrimages toward a holy land he could see but not quite reach. He released his grip on Trevor’s shoulders to wrap his arms around the sculptor’s neck as he tried to pull him closer. “Go faster,” Adrian said. It was obvious he was trying to command but the plea in it was too apparent.

God I love it when you talk to me like that, Trevor thought. Tell me how you want it. “Slower is better the first time,” Trevor told him. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you, but I–,” Adrian began to argue and Trevor curved one of his legs, tucking it between the brunette’s arm and ribs. It elevated the angle just a touch more. “Ooooh, that’s!” Adrian moaned. “Yes, that’s, that’s!” The tumble of fragmented words in that sultry plea was impossibly sexy and Trevor couldn’t resist it. He risked going slightly deeper and Adrian’s throat worked, the most bewitching whimpers curling over his lips like glossy, swift seals slipping into dark water.

“It feels like you’re everywhere like this,” the blonde murmured. “There’s nothing inside of me you haven’t touched.”

I want it all, Trevor thought, his hand tightening for just a moment on the leanly muscular thigh. Your love, your body, your heart. You are mine. “Eventually there won’t be,” he replied. He could feel the dangerously satisfied grin on his face. “Every inch of you will belong to me.”

Adrian’s brow knit. “But not now?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face. 

Trevor smiled, kissing Adrian’s calf. “Not quite but it’s close. I’m just being careful here. Someday you’ll be comfortable taking me all at once, but there’s no rush.”

Dawning understanding crossed Adrian’s features, “Wait, are you saying you can go deeper? You’re not as far inside me as you could be?” His eyes were huge and Trevor shook his head, already wishing he hadn’t worried him.

Don’t panic, Legs, he thought. I won’t give you more than you can handle and I don’t expect–.

“Well why the fuck not?” Adrian yelped with obvious dismay.

Trevor blinked. Wait, what? he thought.

Sypha snickered. “This is a twist on ‘is it in yet,’” she quipped and Trevor felt a grin forming.

“I want all of you, and you’re holding back?!” Adrian scowled. “That’s!” he gave a little slap to Trevor’s shoulder. “That’s so mean! Trevor!”

“Tell him, honey,” Sypha said solemnly, her eyes twinkling. “He’s holding out on you, the dick.”

“Holding out on giving me the dick no less!” Adrian huffed indignantly.

The sculptor started to explain, “I just want to make sure you were really comfortable–.”

“Trevor!” Adrian hissed with obvious, frustrated need. “You better stop being so considerate or I swear–!” Trevor stroked over his cock and the blonde melted against him, moaning, “That’s not fair, you know what I–.” 

The sculptor sped up slightly, gradually thrusting into Adrian in time with the firm caress over the beautiful length twitching against his palm. “Trevor,” the blonde whispered as he arched like a swan taking flight.

There you are beautiful, Trevor thought. Don’t focus on anything but the pleasure.

“I’ve got you lover,” the brunette told him. “I promise, if it stays good this first time, we can try deeper the next time.”

Adrian shuddered, wiggling his hips down, seeking more. “It’s better than ‘good’ now. You feel incredible,” he said, “I want all of you.” He stroked down the tendons of Trevor’s throat and splayed a hand over his heart. “I want to know you’ve taken everything I need to give. Let me belong completely to you.”

Adrian’s words were dangerously tempting, but it was the honest entreaty on his face that swayed him. If I am careful, he thought and eased inside a fraction more.

Yes,” Adrian pleaded, “all the way inside me.” The blonde brought his other leg up so his knees were tucked tight against Trevor’s ribs, splayed toes holding him in a tiny expression of the clutch that joined them. “Show me how it feels to be utterly yours,” the painter said, bringing his hand up to press against Trevor’s bites on his throat. The hard clench around his cock when Adrian prodded the bruise, thinned out the last of Trevor’s restraint.

Trevor placed his hand over Adrian’s and bore down. “You already know,” he said tightly as Adrian let his head fall back, offering his throat to him in a submission so seductive Trevor could swallow it and feel the taste at the back of his throat. “You know how it feels to be totally mine. Because you are mine.”

“Always yours,” Adrian whispered and squeezed Trevor’s thumb between two of his fingers. “Everything about me, everything I can give.”

Always, Trevor thought, now and forever. “Adrian, I love you.” The span of his palm against the thudding pulse, the tight hold of Adrian’s body and the deep-seated understanding that what lay between them was eternally bound up in the unbreakable. The painter opened his eyes and met Trevor’s.

“I love you, Trevor Belmont,” he said, shifting his hand out from under Trevor’s to cup his wrist and caress the top of his hand with his thumb. “Never doubt it. Never doubt everything I want to give you.” The tenderness was wrapped around the needful acceptance and yoked in that giving trust.

He moved carefully, watching Adrian’s face for any sign of discomfort. The gold glinted with pleasure as Adrian’s body registered the deepening stretch of Trevor sinking into him completely.

---

By the time the warm press of Trevor’s hips met the contours of his ass, Adrian was struggling to hold onto his composure. Sensations were building swiftly now, slippery sand castles of stunning magnificence that would explode pleasure inside of him when they collapsed. 

Adrian thought he knew. He thought he’d understood. But the fullness was enormous and all-encompassing. It teetered on the edge of pleasure and discomfort like a shop sign swinging in the wind. It was a brimming saturation that tightened into a knowing where he felt like his heart had taken the shape of the hands that held it. It was not something he could have possibly understood until he was living it. 

He’d made love with Trevor before, in a variety of creative and wonderfully pleasurable ways. This was different. There was a giving in this surrender that fulfilled him, completed him, and found him immersed in an embrace that offered a unity Adrian had long sought but had not had the words to express. Because there were no words for this feeling, Adrian thought, this form of communication surpasses the abilities of the verbal.

All annoyance and dismay with being denied was pushed out of his body by the overwhelming sensation of Trevor expanding, stretching, spreading his claim to every part inside of him. 

And it just kept finding new space inside of the painter to own.

It brought a vulnerability with it that made his heart beat wildly and flushed his cheeks. It was like what had been between them in the bathroom at Lindenfeld’s, but with this time the storm was held inside of his body instead of inside Trevor’s mouth. I am yours, Adrian thought as he arched into Trevor’s hips, feeling the warm heat of his belly and the brush of his chest hair, the muscular sinew, and the promising, protective strength. Utterly yours.

It was completely true and devastatingly apparent. The knowledge was uncomfortable as much as it was accepted, for the simple fact that his heart had never been so exposed as it was right now. And he knew Trevor must see it. How could he not?

The stark, fierce blue that sparkled like the midday sun on the ocean felt just as hot as sunlight on his skin, and raked over his face. Adrian felt as though his skin were transparent and what lay beneath it was as plain as words on paper. There was nothing he could say that Trevor couldn’t already see for himself. The frantic sounds of pleasure, whimpered pleas, and the cresting sobs of the sculptor’s name were all multiple printings of the same message.

I love you, I need you, I love you. 

It sang inside every delicious movement, every tensed muscle, and reflected in the spectacular violet slivers in those blue depths. The taut lines of the sculptor’s face, the rasp of his breath, the tension in the wrist Adrian held on to, and the press of his hand against Adrian’s throat. These were all soldiers in the army of love that Trevor was marching over his body. 

“Everything you give me, I cherish,” Trevor told him, leaning down to press his hips hard against him. Adrian’s breath caught against the hand holding his throat and he saw stars. They burst deep inside his body and spiraled between their frames to dance over his skin in whirling patterns of scattered heaven.

“Trevor,” he moaned, hooking his legs around his hips and reaching up to draw the sculptor down so he could feel his weight. This is what I wanted, he thought. This feeling, this closeness. To hold you inside me and never let go. “All of it, everything, yours.” He pressed his legs against Trevor’s back for that fraction of additional depth. “Feel how much I need you.”

“Legs,” Trevor murmured against his cheek. “I needed this too. To see you like this. To have you like this.” The tenderness in his voice swept over the painter and he stroked down Trevor’s back. “I’ll never stop needing you.” 

Adrian could hear the possessive vow in the sculptor’s voice and instinctively dug the edge of his nails into his back. Don’t ever stop. I would never get over you, the painter thought. There will never be another man like you. 

Trevor hissed and Adrian nipped his shoulder, the questing edge of his teeth tasting the desperate scramble for control. He wanted to suck it out of the sculptor like a vampire drinking blood, so they could taste the pulsing truth of what twisted around them and coursed in their hearts. Impatient for it, and eager for that fast fall into the splintering pleasure, Adrian raked his nails down Trevor’s back and latched his hands onto his ass.

“Prove it,” he demanded, cradling him as close as he could, urging their hips together. “I want to see you lost in me.” He sucked against the taut, smooth bicep. “Found in me. I want–.” Trevor’s hand on his throat tightened minutely and Adrian moaned. “Hold me just like that,” he urged, “and—.” Trevor started to ease out of him and Adrian’s words surrendered to the approving whimper that chased his retreat.

Trevor’s withdrawal was frustratingly slow; the drag was a pleasurable, strange and tantalizing sensation that caused him to clench. He watched lust, need, and wanton frenzy tumble across Trevor’s face. Is that it? the blonde thought wildly. The feeling of me… He did it again, intentionally, and Trevor quaked, plunging back into the painter with a swift sureness that exploded feathers of satisfaction to float inside him. Again, again, I need it, I–!!

“Adrian!” Trevor gasped through clenched teeth, abdomen working as the muscles peeked through his skin like long cords of bunched rope and his fingers flexed against his hips as though Adrian might be the only thing left to hold onto in the world.

“Yes, yes! Fuck me like that Trevor, I want it, I–!”

“You don’t–-I can’t,” Trevor gritted out. “I’m incredibly–-!” Adrian clenched again and Trevor’s groan was so deep it resonated inside of Adrian’s marrow. The sound was the long drag of iron against stone, and the shower of brilliant sparks that resulted covered them both.

“I’m very close,” Trevor warned him between pants, eyes squeezed shut. “I just need a minute, I–I don’t want to hurt you.”

I want to see you come; I want to have you as lost as I am. It’s okay, I’m okay, but I can’t wait, I can’t! The painter thought frantically. Surely there’s a way you can know I am fine but also…

“Roll over,” Adrian said suddenly.

“What?” Trevor asked, opening his eyes. Adrian was already pushing him, wiggling his body out from under him and the brunette’s hold tightened until it was hard enough to bruise. “Legs, don’t move I–,” Trevor hissed, shuddering.

“I want to be on top,” Adrian said. “You’ll know that I can stop if it's not okay, and I get to watch you lose control.”

A small smirk worked its way across Trevor’s face, easing the concern in the furrowed brow and firmed lips. “You want to ride me?” he asked, releasing Adrian’s throat to brush his hair back from his brow.

“I want to go faster!” the blonde said impatiently, unable to hear the ragged demand in his own voice. “I want to see you fall apart inside me and–!” When Adrian pushed his shoulders again, Trevor scooped him tight and rolled. It was a shocking shift of his vantage and the painter gasped. He automatically adjusted his knees and spread his legs wider to compensate; Trevor had slid out part way and the sudden loss was startling.

I feel so exposed, he thought, a touch of shyness coming out of nowhere. Trevor’s eyes roved over him with stark lust and he licked his lips. But powerful.

“And what, Duchess?” Trevor asked, running his thumb over the painter’s lips. It was teasing but there was a strained element in it that plucked at Adrian’s desire and righted his world in seconds. The blonde looked at him and opened his mouth to suck on the tip of his finger. As his lips closed around Trevor’s thumb, he sank down on his cock at twice the speed the sculptor had been moving. The pleasure sparkled hot and high, a swiftly approaching roll of clouds that would surround him, saturate him and call forth his satisfaction.

Yes, oh, yes. “Oh my God,” Adrian moaned. “Just like that.”

“Adrian, holy shit!” Trevor’s grip on his jaw became demanding and the thumb pressed against his teeth like he wanted them to brand his skin. Adrian licked over the tip and rolled his hips, testing the fit of Trevor. He was so deeply inside him that Adrian was literally sitting on his lap. The painter’s desire was overwhelming, pervasive, and fell over them both. All he wanted was to lose himself in it.

The chant of Trevor’s name kept time with the rise and fall of his body. The endless arms of pleasure wrapped around Adrian and squeezed until his breath was harsh and his muscles strained toward the golden sun showers dripping into his belly. When the sculptor closed his hand over Adrian’s cock, the words disintegrated into the two things that mattered most in the moment.

Feel, “I love you,” slip, I love you,” slide, “Trevor,” plunge, “Trevor,” take, “Trevor!” It was so good; the thick feeling of being spread, taken, fulfilled in the most fundamental manner. The release that had been teased and taunted by Trevor’s patience and skill fluttered in the wings.

“Legs, look at me,” Trevor ground out, “look at me and let me tell you how gorgeous you are. How much I need you.” Adrian’s vision was narrowing into the clever palm that stroked over his cock and urged his hips to thrust without thought or reason. But at the end of the hazy blur was Trevor, strained, intent, possessive.

There’d never been anything as magnificent as his face at that moment. You are everything and I will give you it all, he thought.

“Watching you, Adrian, I–,” he swallowed hard. “You’re unreal,” his breath was harsh. “Look at you like this, fucking me like the world is ending. Like there’s nothing left but us and it’s all over.”

The words splashed down his throat and fed the heat that rose from the whirling golden sandstorm spreading up his belly and over his thighs. “Trevor, I-I’m-,” Adrian warned breathlessly.

“Yes you are, and so am I. Keep your eyes on me, Adrian, and let me see you come on my cock.” He reached up and stroked a firm thumb down the blonde's jugular. “I’ve got you and I am never letting go.” He cupped his throat and Adrian pressed his hands over Trevor’s. He held on for dear life.

Watch me come for you. The thought was unbearably erotic and a wish that would be fulfilled.

“Yes, Legs,” Trevor urged him, the rough excitement deepening his voice, “hold me and let yourself go. I’ve got you, love.” The sharp edges of Trevor’s possession burrowed down into his body and tugged frantically at the rising sensation that twisted desire and pleasure into a velvet chord. It pulled so tight Adrian couldn’t breathe and it snapped with a sudden burst as though the heavens had split to pour a driving rain.

His vision wavered and Adrian had to seek the darkness behind his eyelids as his senses were overwhelmed. The painter arched into the battering slam of a pleasure that swarmed, drenched and claimed him in a downpour of gratification. He heard Trevor’s groan and felt the reflexive spasm of his grip against the sensitive, flushed flesh captured within the sculptor’s hand. The orgasm felt like everything he’d ever been and ever would be had gushed out of him into Trevor’s hands.

And he’ll never let it go, he thought. He’ll never let me go.

There was no possibility of forming words, but Adrian trusted Trevor heard his name in the broken pace of the blonde’s hips and the stuttered gasps falling from his lips. Felt Adrian’s love in the pulse of his throat and the frantic clutch of his body around the sculptor’s cock. Saw it in the manifestation of shared pleasure left across Trevor's hand.

“Gorgeous,” Trevor whispered, the flex of his fingertips a softly throbbing ache against the bites on the blonde’s throat. The sweet hurt honed the edges of Adrian’s climax into arrow points that pierced the haze of pleasure and infused delirious satisfaction. Trevor rocked his hips against him and Adrian wailed helplessly, caught in the endless fall into the fulfillment that was crushing him with pleasure.

“I love you,” he sobbed out and Trevor’s arm wrapped around him, the sculptor rising up to find his mouth with the rasp of teeth and wet scrape of tongue. 

“Say it again,” Trevor demanded, voice tense and low, blue eyes pinning him with need. "Tell me you love me." Fingertips that tasted of his own release slipped between their lips to be chased by Trevor's tongue. The sculptor's appreciative groan was a feast that filled Adrian's belly. 

“I love–,” the blonde began, but stumbled on the words, distracted by Trevor's hungry licks. 

“Say it,” Trevor growled, the command from his lips reflected in the piercing gaze that burned into the painter's eyes. “It belongs to me and I need it. I want to hear it as I come inside you." 

Yes, yes, Adrian thought desperately. Brand me as yours. Fill me. Leave everything inside me. "I want that; I want you to. I love you Trevor, I am yours and I love--!" Trevor gripped the painter's ass and lifted him. The glide of his cock withdrawing, and returning to fill Adrian once more, ignited a firestorm hungry for territory in his belly. Pleasure exploded anew and the painter's gasp was caught inside Trevor’s mouth as the brunette exploited his parted lips to plunder all the sounds and drink them down. 

"I love you Adrian," Trevor told him as he thrust. "I love you and you're mine. Now, always and forever."

Eyes locked on each other, Adrian watched Trevor come. The intense, feverish drive of his hips, the swift rush of emotion in his strained features, the cresting awareness in his eyes, and then, oh, that gloriously unfocused gaze that disappeared under the descent of his eyelids.

Adrian wasn't sure if it was his wishful thinking or actually possible, but there was a sensation deep inside of him of wetness and then an increased slickness. He automatically clenched to hold it inside him, and Trevor's eyes snapped open, shocked, awed and a little desperate. The painter did it again, intentionally holding the tension a moment, and Trevor shuddered, fingernails scraping down Adrian's back and holding him close.

"Mine," he whispered against his throat and Adrian felt the reverence in the words like holy water dripping from his lips. "Mine," the sculptor kissed his skin, so tenderly that Adrian's eyes stung. He wrapped his arms around the brunette and stroked over his hair. 

"Yours," he agreed, cradling him inside his embrace. "Always and forever."
---

When you call my name
It's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees
I want to take you there
In the midnight hour
I can feel your power
Just like a prayer
You know I'll take you there
I hear your voice
It's like an angel sighing
I have no choice
I hear your voice
Feels like flying
I close my eyes
Oh God, I think I'm falling
Out of the sky
I close my eyes
Heaven, help me

-"Like A Prayer," Madonna

Notes:

And this was the heavily edited version...🫣 To say it's been pent up is... accurate hahah.

It's been a fucking HOT MINUTE over here and I am sorry for that. I confess I am nervous that anyone still gives a shit about this but thank you for waiting for it so patiently and I hope it was everything you hoped!
---
Special thanks to the lovely and talented Petro aka petrodactyl352 for her continued excitement for this chapter, even when I was *having a moment* over ever getting it to a manageable and publishable size. Your support and encouragement means more than you can know. And If you, dear reader, haven't read Petro's writing, especially her Trephacard, you are MISSING OUT!!
---
There were SO MANY GOOD CHOICES for the song for this. I struggled between the hilarious, "Relax" Frankie Goes to Hollywood, to the classically romantic, "Open Arms" Journey and finally got it to Madonna's "Like A Prayer" and Bryan Adams' "I'm Ready" (Acoustic version). I'm honestly STILL torn but I went with Madonna because Bryan's acoustic version was recorded in 1998, even though the original was dropped in 1983...so it felt a little like cheating to use it 🥲
---
Moodboard: Nude photo- "The Sacred Body 8" by Solus Photography, artwork photo by Joesp Martins via Unsplash

Chapter 57: Two hearts needing one another

Summary:

“Of course Adrian’s happiness matters to me just as much, Lisa,” Vlad soothed. “Even more so! But–.”

“No,” she cut in coolly. “There really isn’t a ‘but’ in there, Vlad. You’re telling me that you are not willing to weather the possible issues of Adrian’s romantic attachment, but that forgery, murder, and child neglect was something you were just fine doing. Something you were alright with lying about.” Her beautiful face was drawn and haunted and her voice faltered. “It breaks my heart.”

Notes:

It Started Out Badly Chapter 57

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The chick was hot but she was a total bitch. It didn’t matter that she’d smiled at Tim or that her tits were nice, you could always tell when someone thought you were trash. He struggled to hold his smile and tried again. “Look, I’m sorry, this is the cheapest one we have,” he said.

The icy blue eyes stared at Tim and the smile turned down so quickly that he actually stepped back. She put her hands on the counter. “That’s ridiculous. I told you, I need a prepaid cell phone, not a fucking iPad with all the gadgets.”

“I hear you, but you’re saying that you want to be able to send emails from it and that means data, not just talking. Once you’re into data, it becomes a lot more expensive.”

“I’ll just use Wi-Fi then,” she said dismissively and flipped her long white hair. Tim did his best not to roll his eyes.

“Okay for sure, but it still needs to be Wi-Fi compatible to do that and that’s this model. It’s the data, whether you buy it on the prepaid card or use Wi-Fi. The phone’s still got to be able to handle it.”

Tim watched her struggle with that and braced himself for the outrage. “I know I saw this advertised at Walmart for like $40 less,” she said through gritted teeth.

So fucking go there then, he thought. Get it from them. But he also knew better. You didn’t snap at a customer. Besides, he knew she couldn’t because it was a bullshit bluff. GiantC was the only chain to offer the prepaid card with phone bundle because the store had an exclusive deal with VaniaLite, the biggest telecom provider in the country.

Instead, Tim gave her an out. “Any purchase you make is covered by a 90 day price match. If you find a lower price with a comparable package, so in this instance, the phone and the prepaid card, we will refund the difference.” His smile wasn’t quite genuine. “So you’re covered no matter what. That’s the GiantC customer commitment.”

So buy it and fuck off or get lost, he finished silently. It was only 2 pm but she was making it feel like a much longer day than it had already been. 

When she smiled like he’d just dropped a grand in her lap, he blinked. “I’m sorry,” she said innocently. “I’m just frustrated because I only brought $200 with me. I don’t have the extra to cover it. It’s not your fault, I know that. I don’t mean to be difficult.”

She looked at his nametag. “You’ve been really helpful, Tim.” She batted her eyelashes. “Really sweet too.”

Are you fucking joking me right now, he thought. How stupid do you think I am. “I’m really sorry to hear that. The good news is that this is a regular stock item here so when you are ready, the phone and card bundle,” he couldn’t help himself, “at this price, will be here for you.” 

Her eyes flashed at him. The sweet smile stayed in place but those eyes, jeez, if they were the barrel of a gun he’d be so dead right now. “I’ll go get the difference and be back,” she said, leaning toward him so her tits pressed together. Bitch or not, they were really nice and he couldn’t help a quick glance down.

It’s like she knew he was looking because when he looked up, he could see the scorn in her eyes. “I’ll see you real soon, Tim,” she said casually and straightened up.

“Sounds good,” he said evenly and prayed that he’d be off shift when she did.

---

Isaac had spent some time on the internet determining the numerous land holdings for the Tepes family. It was something of a crapshoot because many of the public listings only gave areas, not precise locations and addresses. The FBI agent couldn’t blame them for not providing the locations, but it did make it harder for him to determine where Vlad might have stashed the original paintings.

The truth was that Isaac wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for now. Even if he located where Lord Tepes was storing them, he couldn’t confirm it. There was no cause for a search warrant and, given their global holdings, it might very well be out of his jurisdiction anyway. 

It nagged him though. Something that important to Vlad. Something that he would have risked so much for. Surely he would want to keep it close to him. Maybe even on the Tepes estate itself. The Architectural Digest spread from a decade ago gushed about how massive it was and there was certainly ample forest for an underground bunker.

Isaac hadn’t been able to locate the floorplans or any permits for building on the property but was under no illusion that meant anything. A man that powerful and wealthy could build a secret bunker with ease. But not without his family knowing, Isaac thought with a frown. Adrian had clearly been shocked by Isaac’s suggestion that Vlad was involved and the federal agent would have laid money that the shock was genuine. Adrian knew nothing.

But did Lisa? He wondered. That was a giant question mark. Everything Isaac had read about the Tepes couple suggested they were incredibly close. It was very likely she might know. Not that Isaac was allowed to approach her to ask.

The land holdings documents and searches had gone on the backburner as a dead end. Based purely on Isaac’s gut he ordered a land title search in Castlevania, but expected nothing to come of it. Vlad’s estate would come up and so would Adrian’s apartment but he couldn’t get a warrant for either one so it was probably a waste of time. 

But you can’t just let it go, can you? Isaac thought to himself and frowned, even after he sent the search request email.

It wasn’t uncommon for any agent or law enforcement officer to have that one case that haunted them. One that they couldn’t quite put down, even after all the potential leads had been exhausted. That’s not the case here, he argued silently. Trevor’s relationship with Adrian has opened up all sorts of potential leads and led me toward the reclamations angle.

The revelations from researching the Tepes family history felt right. The ‘why’ aspect was explained as to under what circumstance that the Tepes family would consider forgery, at least as answered as the agent expected it ever would be. Everything that he’d uncovered about the Tepes history and principles fit into place, even why someone as powerful as Vlad Tepes would risk so much. 

The Belmont family was something of an exception. Now he could understand why the Belmonts had been willing to take such risks for the venture, but his curiosity as to precisely what motivated them would never be satiated. Anyone who could answer that was dead now. 

Except for Vlad Tepes, he thought. 

Isaac wanted to speak to him. Not 48 hours prior he would have happily slapped cuffs on Lord Tepes and marched him downtown to sweat out the truth of the Belmonts’ deaths. Now he wasn’t so sure what form the conversation might take.

He still wanted the answers, but the certainty that Vlad had ordered the deaths of the Belmonts had vanished. It had started to teeter when he’d realized all the artworks had a connection to Jewish families, and doubt grew in earnest the more he read about Vlad’s extensive funding and time commitment, as well as his public statements given in support of the Romanian families who were seeking to reclaim their holdings. Land, heirlooms, art, stocks–-the Tepes family offered support both financially, politically and publicly since the moment Lord Tepes came into power.

It was admirable, really. Many people treated what had happened in WW2 as ancient history that had no impact in the ‘modern age.’ Conveniently forgetting that many people still lived with the destruction of their families today, Isaac thought. If Elizabetha had lived, Adrian would have heard her memories of the war in her own voice. That’s not in the past; that’s living and breathing in the here and now.  

Isaac thought briefly about some of the stories of war he’d heard from the mouths of survivors and shook his head. His own history wasn’t relevant here. But justice was. 

But you aren’t so sure what justice might be in this case anymore, are you? he thought. What Vlad and the Belmonts were doing is something you might just respect and aren’t even sure should be classified as a crime. It’s too easy to look at the history of war and know that justice is always denied to those who need it most.

The federal agent shifted uncomfortably in his chair. As someone who’d sworn to uphold the law, that was a perilously cynical conclusion. Personal emotions and opinions have no bearing on this case, he lectured himself and tried to redirect his thoughts. 

But it was already happening, he admitted to himself. You are having trouble separating your opinions from the people involved.  

Maybe it was the length of time it had weighed on him. Maybe it was watching Trevor and realizing that the boy who had wept soundlessly when he was told his parents were dead, only to scream with fury over their murder, wasn’t a boy anymore.

Maybe it was hearing from Adrian that Trevor had thought, all this time, that he’d been responsible for his parents death. That had infuriated Isaac. The guilt was unwelcome but the federal agent had already done what he could. It should have worried him how quickly he’d decided to break the rules so that Adrian could tell Trevor. So that Belmont could know the truth, and have peace. 

It wasn’t an integral piece of the case, he reasoned. And Godbrand’s lie, coupled with his behavior towards Trevor could conceivably be construed as harassment.

The agent had yet to determine how he would approach Godbrand about telling Trevor that his parent’s deaths were his fault. Isaac would be unable to until his fury had fully calmed. It had been wrong and worse, far worse, it had been a crime against someone whom Isaac had been unable to secure justice for. 

More than Isaac cared to admit, his failure ate at him. Trevor had grown up with no answers and had a highly questionable life since his parents died. Could it have been prevented? Is that how he came to be entangled with the Tepes’ now? Had Vlad finally decided he was old enough to know? Did Trevor know now? Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t care because forging WW2 artworks for some convoluted form of justice was a far cry from forging for the sake of money.

Startled, Isaac stopped and sat with that idea. Did he truly believe that? What you believe doesn’t matter, he thought. You enforce the law and the law says that is a crime. 

Alright, Isaac agreed silently. But the evidence itself now suggests that Vlad didn’t have the Belmonts killed. The property that was stolen was legitimately his, or his country’s.

But how do you know it all went back to the rightful owners? The federal agent wondered with frustration. He didn’t, because there was no complete record of what belonged to the Tepes, and what belonged to anyone else. There was no complete record of all the forgeries whatsoever, thanks to the gallery burning.

Come at it from another angle, he thought and took a deep breath. Why would Vlad murder them. You now know it’s not money. But what if Lord Tepes had retrieved all the artworks he needed? Would he have thought to trim that last connection as a safety measure? 

It seemed unlikely. Their connection had spanned at least twenty one years according to the timeline he’d been able to construct from authentication dates based on contact with BiG, and when those same pieces were examined and found to be forgeries.

An association that ran that long, even though the families didn’t mingle, was bound to have built up trust and respect. Everything that Isaac had read on Vlad Tepes was that he was an extremely private and careful individual. An association that spanned more than a third of his lifetime? No, Lord Tepes would have trusted the Belmonts implicitly. 

So where did it go wrong? He asked himself. 

That was the catch. Isaac suspected it was the mob. They weren’t selling the pieces for Vlad or the Belmonts as far as he could tell so they must have been the middle man–stealing and replacing them. That made sense and would have been a relatively straightforward gig. So why kill the source?

That was the hitch to the whole thing and he had no answers. Why did the mob kill the Belmonts? Did the mob get greedy? Did they find out about Vlad and think that blackmail would be a more profitable game? Were they still blackmailing him? Or did they even know who the backer was? Did the Belmonts refuse to give Vlad up and got killed for it? For that matter, which mob was it?

That tangent led Isaac down a rabbit hole of sifting through known art forgers and dealers and looking for mob ties. Given Vlad’s national pride and what appeared to be an impressive ability to maintain and leverage control, Isaac went with his intuition and researched Romanian mobs first. It was a dead end almost immediately. There simply wasn’t a mob organization with enough clout and reach to deal with stealing forgeries on an international scale, even with BiG’s involvement.

So Isaac backpedaled and looked for any Romanian organization or individuals with known, or questionable dealings in art and forgeries. There were eighteen of them currently, but that list expanded to forty seven when he broadened the search terms to include those that might have been dissolved or disbanded in the last three decades. 

If they were still blackmailing Vlad under threat of death…

Tapping his finger, Isaac looked over at the photo he’d printed of a young Vlad Tepes on the steps of a courthouse discussing ‘The Gozer Challenge.’ The proud, coldly furious eyes. The elegant restraint and regal bearing with just a hint of menace. 

You wouldn’t accept blackmail for almost thirty years, he thought unequivocally. You’re too proud and care about control too much. Isaac discarded it. The mob must not have known–. He paused, considering.

It’s true that I cannot see Vlad killing the Belmonts. That doesn’t mean I can’t see him killing. If they did blackmail him it would have been risky. Vlad wasn’t a man you blackmailed, for a whole host of reasons, but the simplest was that he wouldn’t accept it. His eyes met those of the photograph. You would have found a way to stop it.

Something clicked and Isaac exhaled thoughtfully. Of course.

“For that matter,” he said quietly. “You might very well have avenged the Belmonts, especially if you were as close as you must have been. Vengeance would be something you needed. There was nothing else to do. And if it eliminated the threat to you and yours at the same time, well, all the better.” 

The knowing that had served the federal agent so many times in the past was itching under his skin now. Isaac pulled the search function back up and ran a search against the names on the list and the years 2014-2017, just in case Vlad couldn’t resolve the issue immediately. 

But it would have been done in three years, he thought. There’s no way Vlad would allow it to go longer.

It was a matter of nine seconds before the computer narrowed the tally to four names. Isaac smiled. This was a much more manageable list to resolve.

---

Vlad’s temper was something he rarely allowed to come to the surface. He could count on his hand the number of times he’d directed it at Lisa, and for Adrian it was an even smaller number. It would have been this issue that brought it all out. 

It only ever would have been, he thought, wishing for the millionth time that he hadn’t succumbed to the weakness of confessing.

But it had been Sypha’s face. The ghost of Penelope’s in Trevor’s. The reproachful and horrified disillusionment of his son. So you tried to explain, foolishly believing that young people could remotely understand the impossibility of it all, he thought with self-disgust. As though any of them might comprehend the weight of the loss, and the choices, and the inability to take any of it back.

But that wasn’t all of it. Lord Tepes had not fathomed how vast the deeply rooted frustration and grief was for an injustice that he’d never been able to truly resolve. One that, until now, Vlad had never realized was rotting inside him like a dying star that threatened to suck everything that mattered into it. 

No wonder I broke, Vlad thought. All this time. All this guilt and shame. Like a clogged sewer pipe that was oozing into what was once a beautiful garden, it just kept coming out. Vlad needed to get away from here and let the ugliness out somewhere where he couldn’t keep ruining everything. But there was nowhere to run.

It was deeply shaming to him to have lost control in such an utterly brutal and shocking manner in front of Lisa and Adrian. To have struck his son disturbed him and the subsequent accidental striking of Lisa infuriated him. But the things Adrian had said… Vlad thought and felt the wounded pride flare up. It was easier to handle than the terror.

Lord Tepes felt his stomach pitch and heave like a toy in a toddlers bath. The shaking of his limbs was threatening to emerge any moment. Vlad knew it was adrenaline from the fight with his son. He held it in check until his hands were ice cold and his legs had gone numb. Vlad would hold it until he collapsed if he had to.

What are you going to do? he asked himself. For once in his life, there was nothing. No plan, no idea that shielded him from the endless horizon of darkness. Adrian had threatened to cut him off but Vlad couldn’t really believe that. The heir was far too gentle and loving to truly follow through on it. 

But Lisa’s reminder of his broken promise had mauled Vlad’s composure like a bolt of fabric fed through a wheat thresher. 

The truth was nothing mattered if Lisa left him. There was no getting over her. No one else meant more to him, and there was nothing that he would not give to keep her. Even the very real threat that Adrian’s foolishness presented, paled in comparison to that loss. His inability to do anything to sway her or prevent it, tore ragged holes into his control. It was sheer willpower that kept him in check.

“Of course Adrian’s happiness matters to me just as much, Lisa,” Vlad soothed. “Even more so! But–.”

“No,” she cut in coolly. “There really isn’t a ‘but’ in there, Vlad. You’re telling me that you are not willing to weather the possible issues of Adrian’s romantic attachment, but that forgery, murder, and child neglect was something you were just fine doing. Something you were alright with lying about.” Her beautiful face was drawn and haunted and her voice faltered. “It breaks my heart.”

If she cried, he wasn’t sure what would happen. Lisa never cried because she understood that he couldn’t handle it. Vlad was unbearably weak in the face of a strong woman’s tears. Isn’t that what got you to confess to this mess in the first place, he thought.

He took a breath. “I am not saying that. I ask you to please give me some small credit, and try to consider the two separately for a moment. Are there things we could do to minimize the impact of Adrian’s relationships? Yes, we could. However, it would have been better to know about this sooner, so that we could make preparations. Lay groundwork. Discuss it with them and set boundaries.”

He spread his hands. “Part of my concern here is who already knows and how much they know. You saw Trevor at the Wygol! You and I both know, he cannot do that. It will end poorly and might very well get him killed someday.”

He shook his head. “Adrian’s position means that there will always be someone who wants to get too close and wants to curry favor–-sexual or otherwise. Possessiveness has no place in our world.”

Lisa arched her brow. “Really Vlad? Really? You’re the most possessive man I know.”

But I do it in the shadows, he thought. I am patient and I am thorough. “Alright, that is fair but I have restraint and I know when to pick my battles.”

“No you don’t,” she said tiredly. “I have never once seen you let a battle go. You are relentless. But I will grant that you are very good about biding your time for the kill.” Lisa’s blue eyes pinned him. “But you were also raised for that. Trevor could learn. You could help him. And we both know it would be only the tip of the iceberg of what we owe him.”

Resentment and remorse was a sickly coating at the back of his throat and Vlad struggled not to be defensive. “I was not lying about not knowing about Trevor. No one may believe me but I would not have left him to wander the streets. I would have figured out some method of ensuring he was cared for.”

Lisa was quiet and the sickness in his throat edged higher. She doesn’t believe me, Vlad thought and took the blow directly to his heart. Lisa had never doubted him before and the pain of it was excruciating. If it wouldn’t have been so pointless, he could have cursed Trevor Belmont. Didn’t you already do that? His conscience asked and he shoved it aside.

“What would you have done if you’d met me and Betta at the same time?” she asked him quietly.

That’s an impossibility, Vlad thought. “Lisa, that’s beside the point and doesn’t help us.” The faint tension in her jaw was a clue she was displeased. “I don’t mean that unkindly, just that it doesn’t…” She held up her hand and smoothed down her skirt, carefully seating herself in a chair.

“There is a point. My point here is very simple. How you approach the ‘issue’ of Adrian, Trevor and Sypha should be from that same place. Understand having your heart belong to more than one person at once and you’ll know how we need to prepare.”

She talks like this is an inevitability! Vlad thought and took a moment to seat himself in the opposite chair. “With respect Lisa, the only possible chance for this to reasonably end well is for them to agree to keep the relationship private and for it to end quickly, without a pregnancy. Even then, Trevor would have to tone down his behavior significantly and they could never publicly admit it.”

“I don’t see this ending quickly, Vlad.” Lisa’s face was unreadable. 

When Vlad spoke, he chose his words carefully. “I cannot say for certain of course, but there are fundamental differences between two women and a man, versus two men and one woman. Not only in the considerably negative perception of the thing if it were made public.” Lisa’s mouth tightened and he prayed she would see reason. “But the logistics of genetics and titles becomes a huge issue.”

“Yes, I recall your speech about succession and shotgun weddings,” she snapped. “Again, this is something, if you wanted to plan for it, that could be handled. If there was an arrangement about who, and when, and how the succession and inheritance occurred it would not be an issue.”

Vlad couldn’t help his bitterness. “If Adrian chose this path then why is it up to me to make a plan for the best outcome?”

Lisa crossed her arms and Vlad immediately regretted the rash words. “Did Adrian choose his path, Vlad? Did he? We’ve discussed this before we ever even tried for a child. We discussed it again on his first birthday. I thought we both understood what we were asking of him. I thought we agreed we would try to mitigate it as much as possible! That’s why he went to the art school; that’s why he’s teaching!”

We discussed it but it was only temporary! Vlad thought. There was no lasting impact that couldn’t be tempered, or negated, and Adrian agreed he would come back to his duties when it was over. There is no going back if he goes public with this trio. “Lisa, it is very different to present an art degree and a part-time job as a teaching assistant to the world, compared to trying to explain why the only heir to the title is openly in a threesome!”

If it is public then it is all over, Vlad thought. Romania is not prepared to be that progressive. Even the world isn’t. Everything I’ve built, everything that matters, it would be gone because my son made a choice he knew would destroy us.

The beautiful lines of Lisa’s face tensed and she closed her eyes for a moment. He watched her whole body relax and when she opened her eyes, the true blue of them was filled with sadness. “This love of theirs, this relationship? Adrian has told you now. Owned it with pride. Do you really think he cares what the world thinks? That it will make one iota of difference to him if succession is broken, or even revoked from the Tepes clan as a whole?”

Shock was a nasty, horrible goblin gleefully stabbing fresh wounds into an already mutilated heart. Vlad hadn’t wanted to consider that. Adrian had never appreciated or understood what the importance of their roles were. He’d fulfilled duties to a point and then side-stepped them. But to think that his son would be willing to allow the ending of their dynasty in such a dismal and pathetic manner! “He’ll come to his senses Lisa; he has to!”

Her smile was sad and did not reach her eyes. “I think he has, Vlad. And I think this is the end of the path we’ve laid out for him.” 

No, Vlad thought, dread slamming a fist into his gut all over again. “I will not watch this family fall because of his choice.”

Lisa rose slowly, shaking her head. “I don’t think you are. I think you are watching it fall because of yours.”

Like the brittle crust of ice skimming over a puddle Vlad’s composure stretched until it screamed. He rose slowly in deference to her. “Where does that leave us, Lisa?” he asked, not quite managing to hold the fearful tremble from his words. His legs would give out any moment now. With ruthless force, he locked them in place.

Don’t leave me, he wanted to beg. Vlad would have, if he thought it would make any difference at all.

His wife looked at him and he could not tell what she was thinking. “I don’t know, Vlad. But in the meantime, you will give me the space to figure it out.” She waited until he nodded and left the room without a backward glance.

---

“Sunt al tău, iubit.” Adrian murmured, stroking over Trevor’s hair. His lover was a lax bundle of limbs thrown around him and nuzzled into his throat. “Te iubesc.”

“I’m gonna need to learn Romanian,” Trevor mumbled happily. “Wanna know what you’re saying. Sounds so sexy.” Adrian’s heart was in his smile and the softness of his murmur was filled with contented joy.

“I am yours, beloved,” Adrian translated. “I love you.”

The brunette stirred from the warm curve of the painter’s neck. Adrian could feel the press of Trevor’s lips against his throat like the soft comfort of a blanket settling over a chilled shoulder. “Oh I like that,” Trevor rumbled. “You can say that again. ‘Tay you besk’ to you too.”

Adrian tried to correct his pronunciation but Trevor just snickered. “Best of luck. I was never very good with languages.”

Surprised, the blonde paused in his petting. “You speak other languages?” he asked. You continue to surprise me, beloved, he thought.

“‘Speak’ is generous,” Trevor chuckled. “More like, ‘pitifully attempt.’”

“What languages?” Adrian asked, shifting carefully. He didn’t want Trevor to stop holding him or slip from where he was still sheathed inside the painter. The sensation of having Trevor inside of him was both strangely satisfying and wonderfully wicked. Comforting even. The closeness between them felt endless like this and Adrian felt so safe. So loved. 

Because he loves me, the blonde thought with freshly ripened joy, and stroked his hands down Trevor’s spine. There was such resilience here and endless giving.

“Umm, German, French, and a splash of Spanish, but seriously Legs, I’m terrible at it. I can understand better than I can speak, but it’s still sketchy as hell.”

“Also, wenn ich sagte, ich wollte eine Prügelstrafe?”* Adrian asked cheekily and listened to Trevor mutter it out.

“You say you want a–oh hell yeah,” his grin was wicked. “I’ll smack that ass.” He pried one eye open to peer at Adrian. It winked blue with a happy crinkle at the corner. “In a minute. I’m a little…fucked, right now.”

“Trevor Belmont, did you just–,” Adrian said with a beleaguered groan and Trevor’s tongue licked out to the side of his throat, making his breath catch.

“Fuck you until I’m senseless?” The sculptor’s arms tightened slightly and a tumble of excitement and fulfillment went head over heels into Adrian’s lungs. “Hell yeah we did.”

“Yes,” Adrian whispered shakily as the firm, soft, slippery trail of Trevor’s tongue found his jugular. “I suppose we did.”

“Uh oh, if you aren’t sure, then you know what that means,” Trevor’s voice took on a sassy tone. “We have to do it again.” He rocked gently against Adrian and the blonde gasped sharply, clenching down to hold onto his prize.

“Fuck,” the sculptor’s playful tone dived into dark want and his words raked over him. “You feel so right.” The possessively needy creature was stalking behind the startling blue of his eyes again and he eased back to look at Adrian.

“Iţi aparţin,” Adrian murmured, cupping his face. He translated it before Trevor asked. “I belong to you.”

Trevor groaned softly, bringing his hands up to Adrian’s wrists, closing over them in strong, tender shackles. “I think we both know how true that is.”

“I like to remind myself,” the painter leaned in, using the tip of his nose to stroke alongside Trevor’s, until their lips hovered millimeters from each other. “It makes me happy to belong to you. That you want me to.”

Trevor’s teeth scraped the edge of his lip and he shivered. “Adrian,” he murmured in a silkily assured voice. “I would walk through fire to have you. There’s want and there’s need and then, there is what I feel for you.”

“I know,” the blonde moaned as their lips met. “And I never want you to stop.” The lazy brush of Trevor’s lips coaxed the soft, easy slide of warm sunshine down into his belly. 

I belong to you, he thought. You will never let me go. It was a part of himself that Adrian was just starting to understand would only ever belong to this man, but that part yielded completely to this knowledge. The fear and uncertainty of what that surrender would mean and why it was happening, no longer existed. Doubt was gone. Trevor would always stay. He loved Adrian and there was no part of him that still needed to be withheld or protected. Everything would be alright now.

The sculptor’s hands wound through his hair and cradled his throat. “I will never stop,” Trevor whispered against his tongue. “You love me and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know just what that means to me.”

---

Candle in the water
Drifting helplessly
Hiding from the thunder
Come and rescue me
Driven by the hunger
Of the endless dream
I'm searching for the hand that I can hold
I'm reaching for the arms that let me know

Where do silent hearts go?
Where does my heart beat now?
Where is the sound
That only echoes through the night?
Where does my heart beat now?
I can't live without
Without feeling it inside
Where do all the lonely hearts go?

Then one touch overcomes the silence
Love still survives
Two hearts needing one another
Give me wings to fly...
Where does my heart beat now?
Where is the sound
That only echoes through the night?
Where does my heart beat now?
I can't live without
Without feeling it inside

I need someone to give my heart to
I feel it getting stronger and stronger
And I feel inside
Hearts are made to last
'Til the end of time

-"Where Does My Heart Beat Now," Celine Dion

Notes:

*Also, wenn ich sagte, ich wollte eine Prügelstrafe?= So, if I said I wanted a spanking?
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I felt slightly guilty putting this chapter beside the epic sex chapter because it's a linking one to a bunch of stuff that is happening in the coming chapters but I can't just write sex all th--you know what, NVM. 😅
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Yes, I know that this song was on a 1990 album but Celine debuted it in 1988 at a show and that's good enough for me (shhhhhh, it's still the 80's, just let me have this).
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Moodboard: Isaac-Tyson Beckford, Vlad-Jeff Bridges, painting-Pexels.