[Cold digits press into the warm skin stretched over Baptiste's neck. Is he hot due to the flush of alcohol? Does he run warm? Or is this the regular heat of a living, human body being lent an extra thrill by the knowledge that his teeth would soon be sinking into it?
Charlie's lips part - his fangs are not yet bared, but there's no mistaking his countenance as anything but hungry.] The neck you say, the neck it is.
[He'd maintained flawless eye-contact with this entertainer all night, but now Charlie's gaze is locked on the swell of artery beneath his touch. He leans forward, other hand coming to the Baptiste's thigh for purchase. His grip on his neck tightens - less a lover's grasp and more a threat.
With his head tucked under the man's jaw, Charlie's mouth opens wider and fangs protrude. There's no breath against skin before his teeth prick into flesh and draw blood. What wells up from the wound is a taste he immediately recognizes.
Charlie's lips tremble. Delicious.
This is the blood of an angry man, sweetened by the tang of alcohol. Charlie's tongue presses against the puncture, lapping the vitae eagerly. His shoulders sag, hunger's edge draining. His indulgence continues until there's a buzz between his eyes.
Charlie draws away, but does not smooth the wound closed. Instead, he quickly licks the red from his lips. Whatever this guy had been drinking laces Charlie's system now. When he leans back, it's obvious he's feeling its effects.]
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Charlie's lips part - his fangs are not yet bared, but there's no mistaking his countenance as anything but hungry.] The neck you say, the neck it is.
[He'd maintained flawless eye-contact with this entertainer all night, but now Charlie's gaze is locked on the swell of artery beneath his touch. He leans forward, other hand coming to the Baptiste's thigh for purchase. His grip on his neck tightens - less a lover's grasp and more a threat.
With his head tucked under the man's jaw, Charlie's mouth opens wider and fangs protrude. There's no breath against skin before his teeth prick into flesh and draw blood. What wells up from the wound is a taste he immediately recognizes.
Charlie's lips tremble. Delicious.
This is the blood of an angry man, sweetened by the tang of alcohol. Charlie's tongue presses against the puncture, lapping the vitae eagerly. His shoulders sag, hunger's edge draining. His indulgence continues until there's a buzz between his eyes.
Charlie draws away, but does not smooth the wound closed. Instead, he quickly licks the red from his lips. Whatever this guy had been drinking laces Charlie's system now. When he leans back, it's obvious he's feeling its effects.]
How's that?