REAGENT 7561.

yeah, yeah. you were trying to kill me man, what did you think was gonna happen? that's not important though. i think i am in a place to make deals when it'll benefit both of us. i promise it will. just hear me out?

Well go on, I'll consider it. I cannot promise anything Freund.

you liked having that muzzle off, yeah? you sure sounded like you did. so i'll take it off you again next time i'm around. every time i'm around. and you can have a taste of me, if you want. but you gotta cool it with the crossbow. deal?

yeah, yeah. you were trying to kill me man, what did you think was gonna happen? that's not important though. i think i am in a place to make deals when it'll benefit both of us. i promise it will. just hear me out?

report deez nuts

so that's what that smell was the other night. huh.

Hans remained still as Morgan's hands moved cautiously, savoring the tension. His breath was slow, deliberate, as he felt the muzzle lift away. His lips curled into a wide smile as the muzzle lifted from his face, and he exhaled slowly. Hans's lips were torn and chewed to the point where both sides of his lower vermillion border bore rough scars that dipped inward, with a gash revealing part of the inside of his lip and exposing some of his gums. Hans kept his hands still for the moment, pausing the shaking to the best of his ability, his excitement barely contained as he restrained himself from lashing out. He chuckled softly, as he felt the cool air against his now-unrestrained face. "I will be gentle, just as you ask… but only for a moment. After all, you’ve given me such freedom. It would be rude not to enjoy it, ja?" He paused before continuing, turning with a smile on his lips, his mouth torn as if he was protesting having such a restraint on his face by biting his lips, harming them in a way to argue it was causing more harm than not. "Ah, Danke anyhow." Hans purred as he continued, his voice no longer muffled. He rolled his jaw, shaking off the restraint’s lingering sensation, bringing his hand to feel it. "But you’re still bleeding, and we can’t have that, can we, Freund?" His gaze flickered down to Morgan's leg inching down bit by bit, the blood staining the cloth dark red. The scent was intoxicating. He leaned in closer, his lips twitching for a moment. That scent was so much stronger without his muzzle. "You have been so gentle Mein Freund, maybe I should do the same." Hans had each of his fingers twitch, he fought the urge growing in him to grab Morgan then. Morgan was nothing more than a wounded rabbit to him, something he wanted to tear into, feeling the animal's flesh among his teeth. There was something almost animalistic in his eyes and his lips twitched yet he seemed to have some restraint.

Hans could only hold back for so long. Each soft comment laced with an undertone of fear, each ounce of the trembling voice, each pump he could practically hear throbbing under Morgan’s skin, his blood moving at a pace he could discern. The shaking pupils, the stalling. Everything. It was all just too much. "Oh, Freund." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, though there was a hint of danger in his words. "You are right, I have been holding off well." His fingers flexed, and the muscles in his jaw tightened as if he were barely containing the hunger building inside him. Hans's eyes flickered to Morgan’s hand, resting briefly on his cheekbone. The touch was almost tender, and for a split second, Hans allowed it for a moment only for his hand to shoot out, grasping Morgan's wrist with reckless abandon, fingers digging into the flesh as he yanked him closer. His other hand rushed to grab at Morgan's left shoulder, pushing him up against the wall with a dull thud as Hans roughly held him. He stood there, staring at him for a second, his breath erratic. "Ich denke, es ist Zeit für mich, die Freiheit zu genießen, die du mir gegeben hast. Don't you?" Without another word, Hans bared his teeth—sharp, jagged, as if he had sharpened them. He sank them into Morgan’s neck, biting down roughly. The taste of blood and flesh flooded his senses, intoxicating him as his grip tightened. Hans feverishly enjoyed the wound he made, prodding with his tongue as it explored, intruding and savoring the metallic taste of Morgan's flesh. Hans pulled away, lightening his grip for a moment, blood dripping down his chest as he looked almost euphoric and animalistic at the same time. The two emotions came together in a sort of mesh, like two layers overlaid. Hans flicked over his bottom lip and some of his chin with his tongue, licking up the red gore that stained his chin which dribbled down. A drip could be heard with Hans's erratic breathing as he caught his breath. His heart was racing as he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Hans gazed at Morgan, a mix of appetite and schadenfreude on his face, watching every trace of fear that backstabs Morgan's attempts at composure—only for the invitation, the pleading, to catch him off guard. When Morgan leans into the touch, almost inviting him closer, a soft chuckle escapes his throat, smooth yet chilling. His lips curve into a smile, the attempt at calmness in his voice betraying how close he is to losing the fragile restraint. He can discern the tremor in Morgan's voice, the reluctance and trepidation audible. "Ah, so eager, so willing," Hans murmurs, his voice a quiet hiss, the soft cadence of his accent curling the remarks like a dagger. His thumb trails down Morgan's cheek, leaving a streak of blood in its path as he leans in a little closer, their faces inches apart. "Ah, you seem to understand—of course you do, it's simple enough. But truly grasping it? That’s something rarer, isn’t it, mein Liebster Freund?" Hans sneers, though he seems to be falling for the snare put in place. As Morgan grabs the back of his head, guiding him closer to the bleeding wound, offering himself up like prey, Hans’s breath hitches for a moment. The scent of blood is intoxicating, and the invitation stirs something primal in him. His lips hover over the wound, the warmth radiating from the fresh bite. "Du führst mich so freizügig in Versuchung, Lieber Freund," Hans hisses through his teeth, his voice low and almost mocking. "I think I’ll savor this." He pauses, relishing the power he believes he holds before whispering against the wound, "Don’t worry. I’ll make all that pain disappear." He leans in closer, about to bite the wound again. His breath, hot against the skin beneath him. Hans slowly opens his jaw in preparation for the bite—his "Lieber Freund" was offering himself up, so the least he could do was provide a little relief, though the nature of that relief was quite obvious as to what it has meant.