anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

The club was sweltering hot with the cluster of bodies packed into it, churning against one another like a shifting, ebbing tide. It was easy to lose yourself in a place like this, but Locus doesn't plan to lose himself entirely.

He has his eyes on his fledgling, moving amongst the dancers and club-goers. York has to learn to feed, to sustain himself without killing, and the first step is the trickiest. Coaxing someone out of the herd to surrender to them.

York has several things working in his favor. He has a guileless face, good looks, and an effortless sort of charm that disarms at a glance. Will it be enough to secure him a meal for the night? He'll have to observe closely and see how this goes...

The first step had been finding something club appropriate to wear- and then remember what that felt like. To not be in the armor all the time while surrounded by people and noise and god- the thrumming bass is a blessing, drowning out the heartbeats around him, easing the predator instinct he still doesn't know how to handle. He lingers by the bar at first, smiling, being personable. Charming. Then it's to the dance floor, falling back into the older habits of moving with the music till someone approaches, and dancing with them. All familiar, all easy.

All the while he has eyes on him, moving through the crowd. Staying stationary attracts attention, as it happens. It's easier to blend when you move with the flow of the crowd, and he's not the one looking to lure someone right now.

He has to keep focused, see what York does, and estimate whether or not he needs assistance. If it looks as if he has it? He'll leave him to it.

Besides, it's quite the thing to watch him dance out there, that unnatural grace gifted to him.

Now it's a matter of finding someone not too drunk, not too aggressive- someone out for a good time that's easily charmed and (most importantly) has someone that'll let them leave for a little bit but come looking after awhile. He's not really in the mood to add to the 'young person that ends up dead because of XY or Z' after a night of clubbing statistic.

Someone sweet, someone curious- and he finds her. Blonde hair, big brown eyes, sweet smile- a little shy but nudged forward by a 'best friend' and for a dance? He's her whole world. Focuses every move in the dance on making her feel good, making her feel special and that? Also familiar enough to fall in without much thought. A smile and head tipped back to the quieter, darker alcoves? Gets a blush and a smile and he thinks he can swing it from here.

Thinks, anyway.

Only one way to find out. There's so far that explaining will take you. In the field is always a different matter. Variables to consider, unique personalities and free wills tend to throw a wrench in it when you're least expecting it. But York seems to know how to read people. Locus has confidence in him.

He's still within earshot, sipping a drink nearby and half-blocking the view of them to the rest of the room merely by standing there.

Throat seems risky so. He pulls her in, murmurs a line. Compliments that are, honestly? Pretty damn sincere. She's lovely, she's a great dancer, she smells like heaven- Delta keeps a read on her vitals as best he can from outside observation. Pulse, blood pressure, all that- going for a cheesy hand kiss that he can in turn use to press her wrist to his lips? Seems the safest route.

Walk before you can run. D starts a mental countdown as he bites and, god willing, he's doing this right.

The girl swoons slightly, her eyes dilating as York sinks his teeth in. At first it seems like nothing but a sharp kiss, and the thrum of her own pulse in her ears seems to have her in his sway. How her little heart beats for him.

Good. Good so far, and far from obvious. No one's taken notice of them yet, and Locus nods briefly in approval, seemingly to himself.

Keeping it good is the trick- and that requires not. Getting carried away. But it's hard, so damn hard, when that euphoric high hits him again. Diminished from feeding off of Locus' wrist but just as sweet, just as warm and weighty, coiling through him like the sun's light on a lazy afternoon.

His eyes slip half closed as he drinks, minding Delta's countdown. Not too much- not enough to hurt.

Finally she starts to sag a little, the pull of blood proving to be too heady to withstand. Or remain standing. She leans instead, reaching for York as her painted fingernails curl against his shirt with a soft, breathy noise.

Locus sets his drink down with a noticeable 'clink'. Now would be a good time to unwind himself.

In theory it should take a single prompt from Delta. In practice? Three, four- a sharp synaptic pinch and crackling of static that has him pulling off with a grimace, tucking her against his chest and-

That is not as helpful as he'd hoped. He's fed. He's not full but he'll probably never be fucking full- and she's woozy.

Um.

He licks his lips and peers down at her wrist. Below the level of human hearing but pitched for locus, he whispers- "How do I heal the bite?"

Bite your tongue. Let the blood heal the wound. Not too much. You don't want her enthralled.

Meanwhile, he was already looking for an out for them, a quick line to follow in order to break from the noise and sweat and find themselves outside, where they might review the lesson.

Okay so enthralling is a thing and it is a thing to be avoided. He lifts her wrist to his mouth, bites his tongue and laps his blood over the wound. After that it's a matter of wiping off any smears and cradling her close, murmuring something kind and forgettable while he finds somewhere safe to set her. A chair, a quick text on her phone to her friend 'cocktails hit her pretty strong get her some water' that he sends as soon as they've got their exit.

She's good. He feels fucking amazing and he didn't fuck it up. He didn't fuck it up!

No, no he did not, and Locus almost smiles as he waits for him by the club exit, sweeping out alongside him once he's caught up. Probably safer to talk some distance away, back away from the alley where the smokers have congregated.

But the sheen in his eyes is a proud one.

"Very good, for your first."

He feels warm and alive and giddy- how much of that is the blood and how much is having done this right? He's not sure. But he's thrumming and feels like he can do anything so..it's probably the blood. Taylor's grinning at himself as he keeps in step, almost whistling.

Not because- well. Stealthy. But the sensation of wanting to whistle is there. "She'll get home safe, I feel fucking amazing, and no one got hurt. I call that a win."

"It will become second nature after a time. I was never very good at social situations, but being what we are helps, to a degree." He tips his head slightly. "We will always seem off to them. Something interesting, a point of focus when we project ourselves, and near invisible when we do not."

But York seems too thrilled for a lesson, really. He's caught up in the moment, and Locus smirks ever so faintly. New blood. "Would you like to know what it is she felt?"

"As long as I can make sure they get home alright? I think I can swing this regularly." But being off is being memorable and he needs to try to keep that in mind but everything's sharper, sweeter, and the small place in the back of his mind is thrumming with pleasure for having caught that glimmer of pride in Locus' eyes.

For making him smile, even a little, when he doesn't seem prone to it.

The offer has him light up that much more, blue eyes bright and flicking to Locus' face. Damn, he must've done well. "I- please? I would like that."

"Only a taste. You've fed, but we don't want you going hungry all over again," he murmurs, before halting in his steps. A moment later and he turns, pressing York's back to a nearby wall and...

The streets are quiet this time of night. No one's going to notice a pair of guys necking in an alcove this close to the club, and Locus takes advantage of that fact. Dips his head low and sinks his teeth into York's throat. Just the smallest of sips.

But he'll know exactly how it's meant to feel.

"Finding another club at this night would be a pain- but I do kinda feel like dancing more..." But that would mean getting noticed and they're trying to avoid that, he and Delta click through number after number, statistic after statistic of their acceptable parameters for fucking around when Locus stops.

Looms-

And there's a brief moment of oh god he's hot because his brain is wired for stupid before there's pressure and teeth and his whole world lights up with heated euphoria. A mouth on his neck is as good as a hand between his legs and it's such a rush his knees damn near give out, hands curling around Locus' arms to hold himself upright. THe noise he makes is just on this side of obscene.

Oh. Well then. That's a sound. It reverberates through him as he tastes that blood, tinged with that golden edge that York seems to give it simply by possession, and he has to make certain not to draw too far. To let him feel the swoon for what it is before pulling back and licking his lips.

That stunned, hazy look of pleasure looks good on him, he can't help but notice.

A hand moves to his hip to help him steady himself, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. "Like that."

it's a brilliant moment of pure sensation- close to the high he got from drinking Locus' blood, from the change- but it is all too brief and he's pulling away. Taylor whimpers despite himself, head still tipped back, throat bared for more. More?

No, then he'd have to eat again and hunting twice in one night is-

His thoughts are still scattered and even Delta can't help him arrange them, preoccupied by the sensations. "Better than being shot."

His voice is low, wrecked, and god he needs either a cigarette or an orgasm, one or the other.

"Infinitely better."

One hand moves to York's chest, smoothing his shirt back into place, before Locus cocks an eyebrow at him. "You'll need a moment, I assume."

"Assume away." His head lolls forward, knocking against Locus' shoulder and again- that little warmth in the back of his head that isn't Delta or his own mind goes bright and happy and content with being this close to Locus. For the moment all he wants to do is...breathe.

One hand lifts, curling against the back of York's head, holding him in place. He's not sure what prompts the touch, except that York seems to approve of touch in general, and out here? He's protective of his fledgling. There's so much he's still yet to experience, so much yet to learn about this life.

Little pleasures should be savored when and where they can.

"Perhaps once we've had a particularly good evening, we might try that again."

"S'a good carrot." He responds better to those than sticks, honestly. Not that Locus seems the kinda teacher to hand out sticks when correction and instruction will handle the issue neatly. He melts further against Locus' chest, breathing going slow and even and normal when this lethargic weight starts to seep in in out of nowhere.

"I'm all for it."

"How are you feeling?"

Not quite so energetic, it appears. That high seems to have crashed headlong into the swoon of the bite. No wonder he's looking a little dizzy.

Should he...be concerned?

Vampires! Part II

Re: Vampires! Part II

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject