Vampire Zanka Janka AU idk man
Little draft thing I wrote the other day
The half-moon illuminates his way to the West Forest, steeping the world in a pale light. He fumbles with his phone, telling Jabber to get his ass to the cavern. It's a long trip, made shorter by the energy rippling through his muscles. Anger, embarrassment, giddyness.
Zanka tries not to scowl at the lack of response.
He squeezes through the cavern entrance, already able to smell the musk of those umbrus flowers.
He barely gets a few steps into the dark opening before his body hits the ground with a painful scrape—Assistaff clacks against the stone a few feet away. “Zanka~,” Jabber leans in too close, teeth bared in a half smile.
Zanka kicks with one leg, snarling. “You bastard.”
They tousle for a moment, kicking up dirt and blood. It hits Zanka like a train, the smell, but he's more focused on winning this scrap, regardless of the ache in his fangs.
“What's your damage?” Zanka spits, slamming Jabber's back into the ground.
Jabber grins that smug grin and digs his nails into Zanka's wrists. Mankira stays mercifully passive. “My damage?” He asks and one tantalizing drop of blood slides down his lip to his ear. “You've been blowing up my phone for thirty minutes! Had to tell the boss-man I had a hot date to make—not that I was really lying-”
His lips stop moving when Zanka sinks his teeth into them. The nails in Zanka's wrists dig deeper. Everything intensifies in that little bubble. Heat floods through Zanka’s veins—that addicting way feeding is meant to feel. Jabber’s squirming underneath, breath catching, eyes closing. Hot blood slides down his throat, not bitter today, but…
Zanka pulls off with a gasp, sliding off of Jabber's supine form. A groan elicits from Jabber, “Why’d you stop?”
“Why the hell’re you sweet?” Zanka covers his mouth, the throbbing in his veins unsatisfied.
Jabber props himself up on his elbows with a lazy, predatory grin. “Ya like? You complained about the bitter last time, so I fixed it.”
Zanka swallows thickly, feeling the comfortable warmth flood his body all the way from his throat to the extremeties. He looks away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand; it comes away bright red.
Jabber’s tongue runs over his bottom lip where the blood drips. “You were fast with it today, Zan-Zan, you miss me that much?”
