[ curse redux ] | ❝ in these cathedrals we roam, where shadow people dance. ❞

[ancestralwhip]

(continued from here)
Waking up in the bed of his family's guardian angel was the one thing that Richard Belmont never thought would happen. Hell, he had expected her to turn down his rather backwards way of asking for help. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling above them. Part of him thought there would have been a feeling of regret. Maybe even a bit of sense that sleeping with someone from his past life would have been bad karma. Instead he was left with a sense of--well, Richard wouldn't call it peace. It was more akin to a feeling of being settled. It was similar to the feeling he had when he finally mastered Vampire Killer.

Not that there was much point dwelling on it. Richard had learned that if he dwelt on things for too long then his mind wound wander, and there would be several conclusions and rabbit holes he'd regret. He turned his head enough to look for a clock. They did have to be at the airport at the right time. Otherwise Mr. Dracula's Son himself would be upset.

Although, Richard did feel like making the bastard wait just a bit. Payback for all those early morning and late night lessons. Things that fit better around the dhampire's nocturnal nature.

He sighed and pulled himself to sit up as he scrubbed at his face. He certainly didn't regret it. That much he was certain of by now. Now he simply wondered what would be next. They'd go off, fight Dracula again, probably make Alucard even more unbearable to be with. Then... what?

Shit. That was exactly why he hated when his thoughts wandered too far.

"What time is it?"

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[misembraced]

She'd held him, while he'd napped, in post coital bliss. Running her fingers through his hair, trailing her fingers over his skin, those little things that leave a sense memory. Something to keep, when all was said and done.

She'd considered many things, as they lay in the dark. Mostly whether she'd done him wrong, by giving in to her...well, needs really was the right word. She'd needed to touch him, to express her feelings, to give him everything she had. Because this might have been her only chance. So fuck it, no regrets. You can only ask her to be so virtuous.

She watched him, as he stirred, in that reluctant way, that humans have, when it's dark, and their bodies and minds don't agree, about getting back up. There was barely any light in the room, just what filtered through the door, from downstairs, but she could see him perfectly. All touseled hair and muscles, under rumpled sheets. It was everything she could do, not to pull him back down, and make him forget everything but them.

"Quarter after eight," she said instead. "Still early. We have time to see your family."