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Shadow's Play Chapter: 1. The Life of a Saint Pairings: Isaac/Trevor Warnings: Not quite worksafe, this time around. R Summary: He called him here, and here he stood--now all that's left is to find out why. Spoilers?: None, really. Font color this time around?: Violet, like the candles sitting on their lonely perches. Being shoved down and against the cold, crumbling staircase and being groped all over with the license of the blind wasn’t usually Trevor’s idea of fun, if fun did somehow come to mind for some reason. His whip had long been thrown somewhere down the steps in a clatter of metal on stone, and the ages of dust swirled around them with all the activity, floating on the light streaming through a wood-planked window. This place, he imagined had long ago been luxurious, carpets and furniture lush with color and extravagance. It must have boasted beautifully set windows, as well at some time. That time was long ago, considering either the glass was shattered or boarded up with planks of rotten wood. Red curtains, bloodstained and moth-eaten hung pathetically on the sides of each window, and candles hung from their lonely perches on the walls, letting out a ghostly violet light. Lips attacked at his exposed neck, making him hold back a gasp, it was the same as two days ago, but before this strange encounter came an argument and a short brawl, before Isaac surprisingly came out on top. Literally, on top of Trevor. They’d been close to kissing before, and the thought worried Trevor just a little. He had wanted to save the intimacy of kissing and being touched like this with someone he truly cared about. Trevor had struggled against his touches at first, but Isaac merely laughed, looking down at him with an amused glint in his orange eyes. He knew something about Trevor, too. And that was that the men in the Belmont family preferred other men. He wasn’t sure about the brunette, but is sure would be an extreme turn-on if the Belmont felt there was more than just hatred between them. After all, Isaac was the embodiment of an incubus, so it was natural for him to believe that in great hatred, lust bred just as quickly—besides, whatever Trevor was packing inside his skin-tight leggings simply promised boredom away. He looked down at the brunette, pale eyes unreadable as he looked around him, not meeting Isaac’s eyes. He would fix that quickly. Taking his chin in his fingers, he inclined Trevor’s head towards him. “Don’t turn away those pretty eyes of yours, Belmont. I have a fancy for them.” Trevor merely looked at him, as if not in a quite compromising position with his most hated enemy. He was too calm about the whole affair. Leaning down, Isaac moved to brush their lips together before Trevor turned a cheek to him. “You do not consider I would touch the lips of a demon such as thou, do you?” Isaac scowled in dissatisfaction, tightening the grip on the Belmont’s chin. “ ‘Tis a pity, is it true that you have not been tainted by the touch of another?” He said in a playful tone, knowing it was very well true. Trevor forced his chin out of Isaac’s fingers, looking away in mild embarrassment. His eyebrows knotted together in a rather attractive expression, that made Isaac want to just eat him up out of delight! “So ‘tis true! Trevor Belmont lives the life of a saint!” He said gleefully, gloved fingers moving down the bare chest of the man under him. Really, his clothes just begged to be torn off, by the way the shirt hung open in the front to expose his toned chest, to the way his leather leggings clung at his delicious thighs. Starting right above the knee were thick leather boots that curved to the Belmont’s beautiful calves, ending in a square point at his foot that was currently hooked at Isaac’s ankle. His messy brown hair fanned out from beneath his head like a dark halo, pale blue eyes staring up at his own in an expression of aggravation. And Isaac leant down, crimson locks hanging in a curtain about his face as he parted his lips to lick over the scar he himself had given the vampire hunter. A shiver sent gooseflesh across the man’s skin, “How long do you intend to lye on me, you lummox?” He growled, sending anticipating chills down Isaac’s spine. His coupling with the Belmont would be sweet victory as he forced Trevor to submit to his lust as well, be consumed by it. He would make sure they both enjoyed it more than enough, building a dependence on the redhead’s sex appeal and skillful touches. Soon, Trevor Belmont, the holy, untainted man would be his. |