[Blood is all there is for a vampire, the only life-vein that ties them to others. They can smell the faintest hint of iron, they can see veins swell as emotions shift - they feel it in themselves too. Whether called upon for its power or rousing all on its own, the feeling of veins flush with vitae is the closest to human one can get.
Those who think they're somehow more alive when pantomiming the motions of waking, eating, growing, and changing are deluding themselves.
Usually, Charlie doesn't think about that shit at all.
Now, however, blood is everything.
Stale tasting, spread thin and drying, none of it is appealing but for the promise it evokes. Charlie's head does not raise as he watches the J's tongue stretch and lap up the remnants of their connection, but he stares. Brattishly jealous. He doesn't possess any fantastical sexual qualities, so he'll have to wait for the fantasy that sent him over the edge into orgasm. He's left wanting.
He's always wanting.
Maybe in the meantime he'll consider the fact that he's never contemplated such an indulgence before - his feasting always included nourishment as a requisite component. What would he be sustaining by gorging on intestines he's bound to throw up hours later?]
I'm not gonna be any better lookin', next time. [He straightens, granting the damning assurance a wry smile. Surely the 1920s would like their Italian Mobster Guy accent back too, but both that and the style cling to Charlie. Inexorable from the man who has progressed through decades an immutable corpse.]
But I get your offer - somethin nice if I eh... satisfy you. [His thumb presses into J's cock, just beneath the head. Not a measure of frustration, simply postponing a tedious affair for later. He's not the most sexual being.
With his hands now withdrawn, Charlie's sharp candor returns.] I'd say you got a preview of what I like-
Wanna give me an idea for you? Trust me, it's in your favor - you don't want me gropin around tryin and failin. [He's more capable than he makes himself out to be, though inexperience does encumber his approach. This request, though, is a made simply because he likes things made easy for him.]
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Those who think they're somehow more alive when pantomiming the motions of waking, eating, growing, and changing are deluding themselves.
Usually, Charlie doesn't think about that shit at all.
Now, however, blood is everything.
Stale tasting, spread thin and drying, none of it is appealing but for the promise it evokes. Charlie's head does not raise as he watches the J's tongue stretch and lap up the remnants of their connection, but he stares. Brattishly jealous. He doesn't possess any fantastical sexual qualities, so he'll have to wait for the fantasy that sent him over the edge into orgasm. He's left wanting.
He's always wanting.
Maybe in the meantime he'll consider the fact that he's never contemplated such an indulgence before - his feasting always included nourishment as a requisite component. What would he be sustaining by gorging on intestines he's bound to throw up hours later?]
I'm not gonna be any better lookin', next time. [He straightens, granting the damning assurance a wry smile. Surely the 1920s would like their Italian Mobster Guy accent back too, but both that and the style cling to Charlie. Inexorable from the man who has progressed through decades an immutable corpse.]
But I get your offer - somethin nice if I eh... satisfy you. [His thumb presses into J's cock, just beneath the head. Not a measure of frustration, simply postponing a tedious affair for later. He's not the most sexual being.
With his hands now withdrawn, Charlie's sharp candor returns.] I'd say you got a preview of what I like-
Wanna give me an idea for you? Trust me, it's in your favor - you don't want me gropin around tryin and failin. [He's more capable than he makes himself out to be, though inexperience does encumber his approach. This request, though, is a made simply because he likes things made easy for him.]