( ah. responsive, isn't he? has eddie somehow managed to miss it this whole time, or is he just finally really, actually looking at steve? putting his own hunger on the back burner to notice steve's, the pounding of his heart as loud as drums inside of eddie's ears, beating and beating and beating. )
You're kinda easy, King Steve.
( he pushes his fanged grin on his neck, teeth descending into long, white needles the press threateningly to his skin. )
I like it.
( it's old hat by now, and yet — eddie never gets tired of it. the taste of steve, the heat of his blood filling his mouth as he bites down on his abused neck, immediately groaning with the taste of his blood coating his tongue. he tastes like candy. skittles. sweet little pops of flavor that feel addictive once he starts — he just wants to drink from him forever, taste and taste and taste, coat himself in the flavor of steve that's as joyous as he once thought of ketamine and cocaine. no way, nothing else can even compare to steve's blood, his life force emptying out in eddie's veins. feeding him, filling him.
he's learned how hard to press, though. he takes a comparatively short drink all things considered, given the experiment about to take place, that he probably should've thought more about, but didn't. it does seem like the instinctive thing to do, really — this build up of a certain something inside him that wants, on some level, to be inside steve. payment for what he's given him, the very gift of life. eddie doesn't argue with his instincts. teeth still plunged into his neck, he pushes whatever the thing he has building up inside himself into steve, and it feels — good, actually. a relief. not unlike orgasming, in fact. pressing all this build up of energy and essence back into him, filling up the spaces he stole right back up.
eddie's panting by the end of it, recoiling his teeth and laving over the flesh wounds, until the bleeding settles into a sluggish, barely there drizzle. he pulls back, cheeks flushed with steve's blood, his mouth feeling plump and bruised from all the attention given to his body. )
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Date: 2022-08-01 02:27 am (UTC)You're kinda easy, King Steve.
( he pushes his fanged grin on his neck, teeth descending into long, white needles the press threateningly to his skin. )
I like it.
( it's old hat by now, and yet — eddie never gets tired of it. the taste of steve, the heat of his blood filling his mouth as he bites down on his abused neck, immediately groaning with the taste of his blood coating his tongue. he tastes like candy. skittles. sweet little pops of flavor that feel addictive once he starts — he just wants to drink from him forever, taste and taste and taste, coat himself in the flavor of steve that's as joyous as he once thought of ketamine and cocaine. no way, nothing else can even compare to steve's blood, his life force emptying out in eddie's veins. feeding him, filling him.
he's learned how hard to press, though. he takes a comparatively short drink all things considered, given the experiment about to take place, that he probably should've thought more about, but didn't. it does seem like the instinctive thing to do, really — this build up of a certain something inside him that wants, on some level, to be inside steve. payment for what he's given him, the very gift of life. eddie doesn't argue with his instincts. teeth still plunged into his neck, he pushes whatever the thing he has building up inside himself into steve, and it feels — good, actually. a relief. not unlike orgasming, in fact. pressing all this build up of energy and essence back into him, filling up the spaces he stole right back up.
eddie's panting by the end of it, recoiling his teeth and laving over the flesh wounds, until the bleeding settles into a sluggish, barely there drizzle. he pulls back, cheeks flushed with steve's blood, his mouth feeling plump and bruised from all the attention given to his body. )
How'd that feel, big guy? You want some more?