Blood coated his teeth and clung to his tongue. He could feel it as it slid down his throat with each swallow, a blooming warmth that invaded his chest and pooled in his stomach. His tongue slid across his lips, an instinctual desperation to indulge, to consume, to feast on every last drop. He almost felt weightless, a sense of life and power that surged itself into every bone and tendon and vein. He opened his eyes to take in the night with new sight - And gagged. His legs flew out from beneath him as he stumbled backwards, feet kicking what remained of the corpse ( throat bitten, a gaping hole. chest torn and ribs snapped and scattered. flesh and muscle shredded, a starved animal finally fed ) as he fell backwards into the sand. The world spun around him as he rolled over onto his stomach, pushed himself to his knees, and spat out whatever blood still remained in his mouth. He rose his hands to wipe at his mouth, smearing blood across his lips and cheeks once again. He froze as he took sight of his hands, red and glistening in the firelight. Covered with still fresh blood, an intoxicating sight and scent. He felt the urge to bring his fingers to his mouth, an hungered pain in his stomach. He remembered the taste. The power. The warmth. He remembered how good it was. And he knew that he had liked it.
Michael forced himself to his feet, stumbling in the sand as he wiped his hands across his clothes, a vain attempt to clean his hands and resist the urge to give in. Michael looked around in a frenzy, his gaze landing on each and every single one of the Lost Boy's. Revulsion. Disgust. Anger. Fear. He stopped at David and dared to open his mouth -
" What- What did you do to me ! ? " He demanded with strangled voice, though the answer was already known. Michael had been tempted. And he couldn't resist. He was a monster, just the same as they were.
@pierfangs
