#macveigh

@macveigh​​

       “ Hold onto me, love... “   Breathed like a desperate plea into the nap of her neck. One arm looped beneath her, cradling her well as he could... preternatural strength making easy work of supporting her with but a single hand. His other clenched against the wall beside her head, an attempt at an anchor. 

He could feel every single pair of eyes pressed against every side of him. They followed the two of them down each aisle, their voices a heavy, barely tampered whisper. He’d warned Morgan people weren’t the most fond of him in Everwood. The news of his return would spread faster than a wildfire, eating up the gossip mill for at least a week, add two days for ever sighting. Maybe they would linger on him for an extra week because he wasn’t alone.

He dared avert his eyes from straight ahead and meet the narrowed eyes a woman close to his age. There was a familiar air about her, most likely a former classmate now juggling two blonde kids, the only people in the store not staring at them. The woman held his gaze, no shame in being caught gawking. Grayson gritted his teeth as he looked away. “I think we got everything.” He muttered to Morgan, jerking the cart toward the checkout line.

In normal Everwood fashion, there was only one cashier open and the line was five people deep. He leaned forward on the cart, letting his focus blur, pretend to block out the rest.

They moved forward an inch, someone joined the line behind them. Gray turned to Morgan, his lips turning upward into a sour, vile smile. “Didn’t think it’d be this bad, honestly.” He didn’t want to let the guilt get to him --- he could handle them staring at him with such contempt, but Morgan had done nothing to them. 

Grayson shuffled another few inches forward as the line progressed. When he stopped the cart behind him didn’t, it jammed into his backside, the bottom basket painfully hitting his heel. He jerked around, meeting the eyes of the woman he’d seen earlier, her husband -- another vaguely familiar face -- now pushing the cart. “Got a problem, Crawford?” 

Listen, I know you probably wanted me to respond to this IC, and I'm not saying that Morgan shouldn't choke him for the sake of a little quiet... but I'm also saying that is a dangerous game.

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Large hands gripped and held Morgan in place as the Upir caged the woman in - Body pressed up against the wall. His eyes had no longer held the usual emerald green, only dark golden hues were trained onto Morgan's perspiring neck, tongue darted out to swipe at his plump lips.

"Remember..." He muttered, voice merely a whisper "Safe word if I don't stop...okay?" He bit back the venom behind his words, already feeling nauseous from the thought of her life on his hands, but he knew she would be okay...she had to be.

With nothing more to add, Godfrey leant down and gently pulled Morgan's hair back, letting her give access to her soft skin, and with slow and gentle movements, The Upir's fangs had sunk down into the woman - Drawing blood in slow and almost sensual movements, his hues rolling in the back of his sockets and the carnal moan's he let out had vibrated against her skin.

She tasted fucking amazing, yet somehow his body had never felt better.

I don't see a problem here, do you? :)

He’s not sure what came over him, why his mind wondered into the dark corners he rarely allowed himself to venture too. Those trails were saved for rare occasions --- sitting in his beat up car, listening to Jessie’s favorite bands and nursing a beer. Rarely did he allow such darkness to overcast him without warning. The tears wanted to fall, they demanded to be felt. He’d been sitting like this for nearly thirty minutes. His fingers ached and cramped from the tightness but he refused to let go. Refused to allow himself to fall into a pit that would take hours to crawl out of.