"You look almost...feverish. Is there something going on?" He inquires, having set up camp for the night in a secluded part of the wood. "...Do you require blood? I would ask that you take mine, then, rather than venture far."
@vampirkiller
It had been a great deal of time since he last fed upon another living being. The act monstrous in the eyes of many men, yet it was what was needed in order to survive. Human food could be consumed, it was true, yet it did not satisfy the thirst that dwelled within. How man often basked in what they considered to be sins, gave way to temptation as a means to satisfy. Greed, lust, gluttony and the like- yet they could never begin to imagine what it was like, to be a monster like himself.
How his blood called to him, his pulse a never ending thrum, low and steady in his ears. Taunting, tempting, how it called to him as the night grew on. How he tried to deny it, that persistent craving lingering just beneath the surface, hoping they would have had chance to stop within a town where he could find anyone rather than the hunter at his side. His pet- his beloved, a man he could so easily drain dry, and continue longing for more. Yet he was not what so many believed- a beast, whose sole purpose was to destroy and consume any human in his path. No- it’s not what his mother saw in him, nor did the Belmont. A rare sort, capable of compassion for his kind- not human, yet not entirely monster. Understanding of his needs, it brought relief to know it was not disgust that filled him, but mere concern for his well being.
No doubt it was apparent upon his pallid facade, his gaze a distant haze as the gnawing ate away at his veins, tearing him apart slowly with the desire for blood. An apparent tension in his jaw, and the way his attention quickly darted his way, like daggers as they met his gaze, only to soften as a soft breath was exhaled within the silence. The crackling of wood could not compare to the sound of his pulse as it echoed in his mind, his senses keen and alight from their need to feed, the vampire ready to find its prey.
The hunter’s skin was warm, the smell of campfire hardly comparing to his own musky scent. Honed in on the man beside him, his approach was slow- conflicted with the matter of being selfish, versus being fed. It flickered across his features, like the dancing of the fire’s flames. How he longed for him- it was true, but there came a time where he worried, feared he was using him more and more for his own needs. The man did not deserve it, to be fed off time and time again, like his own personal blood bank. Yet he was always willing, always kind, his blood richer than any wine, the purest form of ecstasy he could find. No other human could compare, out of his many years of taking when it was needed. Ironic, to think a vampire hunter’s blood was truly the best of them all.
“It has been quite some time since I last fed off of another, Trevor. I had not foreseen our travels taking so long, I expected our arrival to the neighboring town to be sooner.” No doubt it would begin to show, like a human lacking sleep or food, even he too needed to be fed in order to survive. “Forgive me, Belmont..”
How it often came with such guilt, giving in to his more basic desires, acting upon instinct as he brought himself in close to the other. All it took was but a moment, before he was nestled between his thighs, the heat of the fire at his back, as lips began to ghost along the crook of his exposed neck. There he could admire his scent, a low and pleasured groan lingering in the back of his throat, faint, as he allowed his tongue to trace along the beating pulse of his neck. How he knew his body so well, time and time again falling for his greatest temptation. “Your sweet blood, it sings to me…” and how he could not deny himself such a pleasure any longer.
Fangs were careful, calculated as they pierced his flesh, a quick and painless prick, bringing with it pleasure to the one who was bound to receive it. Both allowed a moment of pure bliss, he, who had the luck of savoring such exquisite blood, eyes fluttering shut as crimson painted his lips and tongue. Erotic, hearing the hunter’s soft moans as he so eagerly submitted to his will. Without thinking, did his hips begin a slow roll against his own, gently guiding him to lay back, as he took control. ‘It will be over soon, my love.’ Within his mind he spoke to him, giving him the friction he knew he’d crave, body often so sensitive when he’d allow him to feed. A sexual charge, that came with being lovers, the privacy of the wood granting them peace and quiet, where only the crows could hear his cries of pleasure. All in time, however, as he eventually pulled away.
There he sat, on his knees before him, tongue slowly trailing, languid as he cleaned away the remains of blood, before looming over him once more. Eyes alight in the darkness, hair pooled in golden curls around them both, as lips locked with his, heated and intense. Every single blessed noise from his hunter would be lost, muffled as his dominance kept their lips locked, allowing the man to taste himself off his tongue. It was only when breath was needed that he broke away, meeting his gaze with a low chuckle. The flames of the fire licked at his back, their silhouettes dancing like ghosts through the mangled trees as he progressed, a hand delicate to trace the cut of his jaw as he spoke. “You are a sight to behold, Trevor Belmont.” How he was ready to repay him, in one of the few ways he knew how, really, as hands moved down his center, knowing well how to pleasure him, and planning on doing just that.
‘You are mine, as I am yours, forever, until my final breath.’
