[Alucard's words hurt. It's not intentional, clearly, but they're a grip around very roots of him, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the pull on the tenuous links keeping him together.

They've forged a life here and he won't be the one to ruin it. He'll smother it, his ardour.]

Nor should I be glad, and I doubt I need to tell you the status of my guilt, but I am glad, and I'm glad it's mutual. I never imagined I'd be a positive source of companionship for my nemesis, or vice versa, but I can live with that.

[He moves his face to Alucard's shoulder, sliding his hand further around Alucard's back, fingers playing at his spine.]

Being your nemesis, and being your- friend, seem to be things that can coexist.

[It's a bittersweet way to refer to them. As much as he'd like there to be more, what they do have should be, and has to be enough on its own; it's the extent of what he can have, and it's better for everyone if he never acknowledges these feelings beyond this moment, never ruins their stability by letting Alucard discover the depths of them.

He shifts back just enough to draw him into one more kiss. It's hot, and slow, and needy, and above all else, selfish, and then he slips away, setting his glasses back onto his nose.]

I'll certainly help you with that penance. A slaughter should warm me up even further.