[ He doesn't breathe. He doesn't open his eyes. He does as he is asked, immobilizes his hands.
It would be better if it were feeding. He had been willing to be fed from. He'd been willing since before they were what they were now, before he'd given anything close to a shit about Alucard. He'd made his peace with the concept the moment he knew that they would be working with a vampire. Feeding was- it seemed more practical than this. More necessary. Something that could be hidden behind a thing that must be done.
This only needed happen because he was foolish. Because all of his family's methods had failed. It isn't the location alone that is too intimate, too wrong. It's that he allowed this to happen. It's that this is for his sake, and not for anyone else's, and he cannot rationalize anything that is done for his sake as necessary when he himself is so completely, utterly unnecessary.
He tries to imagine that the pain of it is a loose nail on a tavern floor. He came close to cutting himself at the vein on one of those, once. The sailors- they will have liquor, and they seemed friendly enough. He could ask them for a drink. Perhaps he will. It's a comforting thought.
By the time Alucard is done, the shaking has stopped. He is still. Perfectly. His eyes are still closed, his breathing steady. The only indication that anything is wrong is a slight glassiness to the skin beneath his eyes. ]
no subject
It would be better if it were feeding. He had been willing to be fed from. He'd been willing since before they were what they were now, before he'd given anything close to a shit about Alucard. He'd made his peace with the concept the moment he knew that they would be working with a vampire. Feeding was- it seemed more practical than this. More necessary. Something that could be hidden behind a thing that must be done.
This only needed happen because he was foolish. Because all of his family's methods had failed. It isn't the location alone that is too intimate, too wrong. It's that he allowed this to happen. It's that this is for his sake, and not for anyone else's, and he cannot rationalize anything that is done for his sake as necessary when he himself is so completely, utterly unnecessary.
He tries to imagine that the pain of it is a loose nail on a tavern floor. He came close to cutting himself at the vein on one of those, once. The sailors- they will have liquor, and they seemed friendly enough. He could ask them for a drink. Perhaps he will. It's a comforting thought.
By the time Alucard is done, the shaking has stopped. He is still. Perfectly. His eyes are still closed, his breathing steady. The only indication that anything is wrong is a slight glassiness to the skin beneath his eyes. ]