[There's no time to breathe, so Charlie doesn't. His lips are captured and he greedily captures the other's in return. The way his shoulders arch into the man's touch is submissive, but not to the larger creature. Charlie relents to the pleasure of the kiss itself.
Fingers in his hair find the strands thick with product, but the hand that withstands this artificial sludge will feel the crown of Charlie's head keen into its grip. Held close by scalp and wing, his own hands purchase more firmly on the man's neck and hip.
When blood spills into his mouth, Charlie's eyelids lilt. Its warmth spreads over his skin in pinpricks and his grip tightens. The taste isn't revolting, but neither will his body accept this as succulence. His voice cracks in his throat, a quickly dispersed flicker of disappointment. He's quick to revel in the blood's weight in his mouth, its slick viscosity mingling with saliva to smear over his teeth.
Then the monster's fang pierces his tongue, and Charlie retracts it quickly. Not out of timidity, but to brush the tip of it into the pool of blood already in his mouth and strain the muscle. A vampire's vitae flows more slowly, and he doesn't want to wait.
When he tastes his own twinge of iron, Charlie's lips crack into a smile. He laps it forward, spitting the bulk over the other's fangs and into his mouth. The maneuver isn't practiced, trails of red leek from both corners of his mouth.
Delighting in their bloody exchange, Charlie hardly notices fingers tangled in his waistband. His hips shift into the sensation naturally, drawn to the warmth this creature provides.]
blood snowballing
[There's no time to breathe, so Charlie doesn't. His lips are captured and he greedily captures the other's in return. The way his shoulders arch into the man's touch is submissive, but not to the larger creature. Charlie relents to the pleasure of the kiss itself.
Fingers in his hair find the strands thick with product, but the hand that withstands this artificial sludge will feel the crown of Charlie's head keen into its grip. Held close by scalp and wing, his own hands purchase more firmly on the man's neck and hip.
When blood spills into his mouth, Charlie's eyelids lilt. Its warmth spreads over his skin in pinpricks and his grip tightens. The taste isn't revolting, but neither will his body accept this as succulence. His voice cracks in his throat, a quickly dispersed flicker of disappointment. He's quick to revel in the blood's weight in his mouth, its slick viscosity mingling with saliva to smear over his teeth.
Then the monster's fang pierces his tongue, and Charlie retracts it quickly. Not out of timidity, but to brush the tip of it into the pool of blood already in his mouth and strain the muscle. A vampire's vitae flows more slowly, and he doesn't want to wait.
When he tastes his own twinge of iron, Charlie's lips crack into a smile. He laps it forward, spitting the bulk over the other's fangs and into his mouth. The maneuver isn't practiced, trails of red leek from both corners of his mouth.
Delighting in their bloody exchange, Charlie hardly notices fingers tangled in his waistband. His hips shift into the sensation naturally, drawn to the warmth this creature provides.]