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@deathbeckons
multimuse for @calamitoushq, penned by d !
characters:
azagi rabaz / bio.
harley xhanthi / bio.
jack riley / bio.
lis halstead / bio.
malcolm davenport / bio.
thaddeus davenport / bio.
oleander "leo" visray / bio
other links:
open starters
His eyes darken whilst her tongue cleans the foul blood from below his mouth. It spurs an innate desire to bite at the fingers that raise his chin. But it'd be a waste of energy, when the blood raining down on their heads grants them the kind of miracle that creatures do not deserve. A lazy, sideways lull of his mouth spitting the last remnants of demonic blood to the red-rivered ground.
They weren't usually so good at disappointing each other. Fromidable for loving violence. "Tragic, baby." Jack would have to bury teeth in something else, later.
Beside him, she's less deadly. Even if hands roam him, and tangle in bloodied hair, they're settled on the sands, staring at sea of blue turning red. Even with the magic blood raining down on him, he needs some time to regain strength after self-poisoning. His voice is tired; distant: "Mm. You could give it your all, sugarplum." 'Zagi's teeth were sharp, too. Jakoris had no doubts about that.
He shrugs out of her grasp and lays back against the thickening sand. A bed of blood, and grains that has his mouth wide open and eager. He laps at it as it paints his face in drops, "The skies have it covered; more than human."
Smiling, he tilts his head back towards her. Amusement sparks in the dark of his iris'. "Worried about me, cupcake? You shouldn't be." A wink, delivered like a promise. Jakoris tucks an arm behind his head; a pillow between the sand and his hair. "I didn't know demons had such caring hearts." a beat, to look back at the crimson gift of a sky, "Your vulnerabilities are showing too, 'Zagi."
There's no hiding his, given her blood. But there's versions where she never offers to human hunt for him, or stroke hot fingers through his hair, and touch cold skin.
Wrath doesn't look so ruthless all of a sudden, even coated in red.
Tragedy surrounded them every day, and yet the two of them usually relished it. This was different, somehow; it felt like something they both wanted but couldn't have, and neither of them was used to being told no. "An insufferable one, at that." She murmured in response, lying down in the sand next to Jakoris as she fought to keep her hands to herself. They weren't the touchy-feely type unless they were heading to a sexual realm, but she had the overwhelming urge to put her hand in his. She blamed it on the blood raining down around them, dizzying her with the power she felt coursing through her.
"When you're back to full strength, let me know. It's no fun when you're in such a weakened state." Azagi smirked, eyes still on the vampire as they lay there. It was an open space - vulnerable -, but neither of them was that, especially not tonight. With her teeth, her real teeth, she could break through easily. Her mind reeled as she fantasised about how he tasted, fighting it back. "Unless you're feeling all caught up in the moment and want to see what it feels like with a demon's teeth in ya, baby."
She swallowed thickly at his words, her expression stilling as she attempted her best to not give him a reaction. She couldn't foresee much harm in Jakoris knowing he was a vulnerability for her, but it was still possible he would manage to use it against her in the future. "I don't think caring is the correct word; we're a little bit more complicated than that." The 'we' referred to demons, but it could also apply to their relationship.
"Even I can't burn at full heat one-hundred percent of the time, Jack. And you were willing to risk poison for just a taste of me. Maybe yours are, too." She paused for a moment, letting the walls fall just a fraction before speaking again. "Seeing as we're talking vulnerabilities... You know, if you or your family need me, you have me. It's you over all of them, Jakoris. Even my kin. Well, unless Malcolm hurts the woman I protect, but he seems to be a puppy dog when it comes to her." She wouldn't argue with more protection for Freyja, and a Davenport would be someone she trusted with her.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wondered if she should have said them at all or left them unspoken. It was known between them, she was sure, but it had always been a secret kept in silence.
A shiver ran down her spine as his teeth brushed against her skin. Her hands reached out, finding purchase on his shirt she tilted her head to the side. She silently wondered if it was going to feel like having her sin taken by a Demon. All encompassing, intoxicating, and terrifying. Freyja quickly reminded herself that Malcolm -- her dearest friend -- did not frighten her. But this... this was something else entirely.
Freyja gasped as his fangs punctured her skin, a pin prick of pain slicing over her skin and then -- warmth. Her body hummed with it, similarly to how it felt when her magic intensified. Instead of being fearful, though, Freyja found herself wanting more. She leaned forward, her eyelids drooping as a tightness wound in her stomach like yarn, twisting and creating friction underneath her skin.
Warmth pooled downward, in between her thighs, and an ache took over as he practically yanked her closer. Freyja whimpered, her fingers gripping his shirt, tugging at the fabric as she pressed her body closer to his. Then, his mouth was gone and cool air rushed to meet the wet skin on her neck.
Dizzily, Freyja shook her head back and forth. For the first time in her life, she wanted a new scar. One that, at the very least, reminded her of the first time she chose something for herself. "I wanna keep it." She said as she smiled up at him. Not only that, but she wanted more. She ran her tongue over her lips as her eyes dropped from his eyes down to his lips. "Do I taste good?"
Uneasiness settled within him as she stated she wanted to keep his mark. To different vampires, it meant different things, but he had only ever seen it used to mark a human that you considered yours. It wasn't that Freyja wasn't important to Malcolm, because she was, but it was more that if he marked her, it could also spell danger. "Okay, you can keep it." He murmured, looking over the bite mark carefully, "Just... be careful who you tell about where it's from. If someone who doesn't like me, or the Davenports, knows it's my mark on you, it could put you in danger."
A dangerous question that had his eyes darkening and lowering to the blood dripping down Freyja's neck. It made him want to go back for more, but he didn't want to take more than he should. "You taste divine." He chuckled, leaning down to lick the trickles from her neck. "Did I feel good?"
"For fucks sake, Xhanthi." Zane hissed as Harley kicked free of his grasp and moved away from him, as if he was going to harm him. As if he'd actually do something to him without consent. Of course, there were times when one might think he had but the two of them talked about it before. There was always open communication when it came to their sexual life. Which was part of the reason why Zane was so confused by the way Harley was acting.
How many times did he has to say, and prove, to his boyfriend that he wasn't leaving him? That out of everyone in the whole fucking world, Harley was the one he loved? "Just because we aren't having sex as much doesn't fucking mean I'm leaving you." Again, Zane felt as if this conversation was fucking ridiculous.
He wanted to shout at his boyfriend. To grab ahold of the blood coursing through his veins and force him to stay in place. To tell him that no, he wasn't fucking leaving. Not until he stopped acting like Zane didn't actually care. But what would that accomplish? Would it make it worse?
Fuck work. Zane wasn't going anymore. He needed a break from everything.
"Great. Go get a coffee." He said as he turned and grabbed a nearby shirt. He tugged it over his head and pulled it on. "I'll see you later tonight." Maybe. Who the fuck knows.
"No, but it means you're picking someone else to fuck, over fucking me." Harley knew Zane; he wouldn't be abstinent for this long, there was no way. He was fucking someone else, whether that was at work or elsewhere, whilst Harley was left begging for scraps he never received. It hurt to know that, but he knew he would eventually have to let it go. Crawl back to him and apologise, because Zane would never see that he had done anything wrong, and he sure as hell wouldn't apologise.
He grabbed his keys and wallet, shrugged on a jacket, and glanced at Zane again. A last chance for him to stop Harley from walking out the door, but he knew that if he didn't go first, his boyfriend would.
"Yeah, see you later." He murmured in reply before he walked out. It was sad that he was actually heading to a coffee shop and had absolutely no idea where he'd go after that. This place was difficult for Harley. It wasn't easy to make friends; people weren't trusting, and a lot of them kept to themselves. They didn't need people who weren't already carefully placed in their lives, and for the first time in his life, he couldn't find his way in.
Whether it would be safer to pay for a room and isolate herself until the storm was over, or to keep her eyes on Malcolm and his mind distracted from the growing bloodthirst inside him, was a harder decision to make than it seemed. She could sense his good intentions, but being unable to read his mind didn’t soothe her in the least. Not that it was necessary; the glint in his eyes told Mireia that what was going on outside could overpower his kindness any second now.
But it wasn’t just her own safety that mattered, Malcolm’s loss was really troubling him, and if there was anything Mireia could relate to, it was the pain of losing loved ones.
With a deep breath, her shoulders dropped, as did her gaze. She took a step back, almost melting into the nearest shadow. The next time she spoke, her voice sounded lower, almost distorted, hidden. Her instincts tried to protect her by securing an escape route that a vampire couldn’t access if it were necessary.
“So she was someone truly important to you.” Her icy eyes shone in the dark as they met Malcolm’s once more. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her own grief spilling once more to meet his. “How did she die?”
She wasn’t sure that question would help him, maybe it would trigger even more suffering. But talking about it was the only thing that truly helped her in the past, after so much denial and escapism.
Mireia took a step back, and though he hated himself for it, Malcolm was thankful. It gave her more of a chance of getting away to safety if he snapped. Her next question had him stifling a sob, eyes staring hard into the ground as though he could crack it open if that was what he desired. He almost wished he could.
"The details are lacking in the letter," Malcolm eventually replied through gritted teeth, "but I can imagine a member of an opposing clan took her out." He wondered which one, fantasised about going back and ripping their hearts from their chest himself, but he wasn't part of that anymore. It wasn't his move to make, and he could only hope that those who took over from Nsilo as their leader would ensure that her murderer was brought to justice. Perhaps they already had been, perhaps Nsilo took them down with her. He didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
She had known Jessie, seemingly well enough to know the mind of his sire, well enough to know that he would be welcomed back once the necessary changes had been made. "She wasn't a Davenport, and she wasn't a Deveraux, but she was family." When was the last time he had spoken his old name aloud? He couldn't remember. It didn't feel like his anymore. Malcolm Deveraux had lived longer than he should have, long past the time that his heart had stopped, but now Davenport was all that remained.
"Specifically?" Nolan asked, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a smile. His eyes flickered towards the cup, where she poured him some alcohol and mixed it in with some blood. Her blood. His fangs immediately unsheathed -- aching for a taste.
"You." He snatched the glass and downed it within seconds. It hit the counter loudly. "In my bed. Underneath me. Fucking exposed and wanting. That's what I'm here for." He used his vampiric speed to reach forward and snatch her wrist, yanking over half way over the counter. "And I'm not going to wait this time." Hunger flashed in his gaze as his eyes met hers.
It felt like a rarity for him to be asking for her in his bed, but she wasn't about to complain when it was one of the things she longed for from him. Perhaps her deal with a certain handsome vampire would no longer be needed, but Annalise knew well enough that Nolan was just looking to scratch an itch with the one that scratched it best. Still, she couldn't help but smirk at the effect her blood had on him. His fangs immediately bared, drinking down what she had served him in the blink of an eye.
Lis let out a grunt as her abdomen collided with the unforgiving wood of the bar, but she knew better than to argue with him when he had that look in his eyes. "Then I guess I'd better clock out." She told the other bartender that she had to go; she would make it up on another shift. It wasn't like she had long left, and they weren't swamped. Grabbing her stuff, she headed out from behind the bar.
"Gonna sweep me off my feet, baby, or are you not in that kinda rush?"
Kai looked at Jack and cocked an eye brow up at him. "Ew. Yeah, of course it's not alcohol free. What the fuck would the point be if it was zero percent?" He asked taking the pint back. He took a long swig and sat back on his stool. He didn't know why anyone would even bother with alcohol if it was free of, well, alcohol. "Might as well drink fucking water." He grunted before turning his attention back to Jack. Tipping his head to the side a bit, Kai smiled and shook his head. "A show, huh? No, I haven't been filled in on what's been happening since I left. Do tell."
"You may not believe in sobriety, Kai, but for some of us it's necessary. Alcohol free, please. If that's too difficult, I'll take a Coke." Jack replied dryly, rolling his eyes at the other. Sobriety was something he didn't think he'd ever see in Kai, so he understood the difficulty in his understanding, but Kai also wasn't privy to how bad it truly got when Jack was deep in the throes of his addictions. "It rained blood. Actual blood. The vampires were losing their shit, or so I hear."
A hum escaped her lips as she relaxed into his embrace. Comfort had been something that Freyja lacked over the course of her life. She couldn't remember anyone before Malcolm giving her much of it. And now, the craving for it had intensified since her escape. She wasn't sure if Malcolm was doing it because he wanted to, or because he felt like he had to, though. They were friends, but Freyja was aware that she was less than, compared to him.
"Um..." Freyja let out a breath as she thought of the one thing she hadn't eaten in quite a while. Mostly because she couldn't afford it. That, and there was a short supply of it in the Dominion. "I'd like some pizza. Please." Her eyes lifted to meet his. "You can take it out of my first weeks pay." She didn't want him to think that he had to pay for it. "I just want cheese and pepperoni." A pause. "And... and can I have a coke, too? I just had one, recently, at this bar--" She cut herself off as she remembered where the bar had been. Werewolf territory. "I like it. The bubbles."
He wanted to argue with her, tell her that he'd pay for it, but he didn't want to trigger another panic attack and have her think he was treating her like a charity case. He would nod, agree, and conveniently forget when it came time to issue her wage. "One pepperoni pizza and a Coke coming up." Malcolm flipped open his phone and called in the order, then shot off a text requesting one of his trusted employees go to his office and bring a blood bag to Freyja's room, before turning back to look at her.
"Don't think I missed that. You at a bar?" Malcolm questioned, though his tone was teasing more than concern or judgment. He hadn't taken her for the type of person to go to a bar, but he supposed most people did at least once in their lives.
I get Intrusive thoughts Like burning my hair off Like hurting somebody I love Like does it ever really stop? When there's control I lose it Incredibly impulsive So scared I'm gonna end up doing something stupid But I try to contain it Oh, it gets so draining It's like my heart is failing Every night I'm contemplating My inner voices saying, "tough" So I try to brush it off Yeah, try to brush it off
As the other fae wrapped an arm around his waist, Jasper suddenly wondered how Kai would feel about this if he saw it. His teeth dug deep into another person's neck -- sucking on him like his life depended on it. Jasper decided that he hoped Kai saw. That maybe, he'd get jealous. That thought elicited a high pitch laugh as he pulled his mouth away from the other's neck.
"A drug. A delicious one. The best one." Jasper dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a vial. "It makes everything you feel so much better." Jasper uncorked the vial with his teeth and then moved the glass towards the other's lips. "Let me show you. Open those pretty lips for me."
He really shouldn't indulge in such things on the clock, but he was due to get off soon enough, and he hoped to spend the rest of his shift, and hopefully the remainder of the night, with the fae offering the drug. Perhaps a stupid decision, but he found himself tilting his head back and parting his lips, just enough for the liquid to drip into his mouth and down his throat.
"You gonna bite me again when it kicks in? You know, so I can compare and see if it really does make you feel things better." Leo reasoned, a smirk on his lips after swallowing the pixie down, eyes meeting Jasper's again.
As Jack contemplated her words, Ophelia returned to the task at hand. There was no reason to stop altogether, other than overreaching politeness. They knew each other, or at least used to, so there was a sense of trust, even if shaky as of late. Plus, time should never be wasted, that was something she stood for even when her soul still belonged to her.
“There’s another rather pressing matter,” she added once he finished talking, only giving a slow nod to his reassurances. This one was a more delicate topic, especially for the rest of them. Still, hands busy and safety scissors straining to cut a single stem, she continued.
“My presence. It continues to cause commotion and high levels of alertness, affecting the personnel’s performance.”Perhaps, Jack felt his heart clench a little, or his body go stiff. She would’ve expected so much from anyone who was close to her, whether they remained so or not. Yet Ophelia remained impassive, even when the one who used to make her heart race was mentioned. “And particularly, that of Second in Command Halstead.”
They both knew perfectly well how Warden was taking her current disposition.
“I believe action must be taken to improve the sense of safety and maintain the general morale.”
The presence of a soulless human was something that he had grown used to faster than he would think; the thing that bothered Jack the most was that it was Ophelia. The rest of them, who had little to no connection with her beforehand, were hung up on the former. They needn't be, or so she'd shown; Ophelia still seemed to have their best interests in mind. She just lacked the emotionality that held many of them back in their toughest decisions. She could be an impartial voice, and as much as he hated what had happened to her, it was a great benefit.
"Your presence is a benefit they're too scared to realise just yet. You can look at things with true impartiality, evaluate what is actually best for us, and not just what people want to hear. You can be helpful with the difficult decisions by looking at things from a purely efficient and, honestly, militant mindset. Whilst I miss who you used to be, Ophelia - and I always will - people need to realise what kind of asset we have now." There were pros and cons to everything, and not knowing what she was truly capable of was a risk, but they would be foolish not to see the advantages.
Warden was clouded by his feelings, which was completely understandable. Jack was, too, and perhaps that's what kept him fighting so hard for her to be allowed to stay, but at least he could function around her.
"I'm at a loss for what to do about Halstead. I'm not sure there's much we can do until he accepts the facts. Again, I can discuss this with the Commander, perhaps limit the contact between you both... Or maybe more contact is what he needs, to realise you're no longer the woman you were." A knife to the chest, but he thought he masked it well. He could still do his job, regardless of whatever emotions came up when he was in Ophelia's presence; could the same be said for the Second?
“Now, now. I was getting to it. Some small talk never hurt anyone and I am a polite gentleman. After all, I am inconveniencing you with this little request of mine. Least I could do is offer a pleasant conversation and a drink or two on my account.” Heathcliff kept weaving his little web, keeping up with the pretenses lest he raised any suspicions. But hearing the other say that he’d love to help was music to his ears. Perhaps further buttering up would not be as necessary as Heath had thought. “I have something even better. A drawing.” Heathcliff announced as they reach the bar, arm removed from Leo’s shoulders and directing with an elegant, sweeping motion for the other fae to take a free seat in front of them. Once Leo hopefully did, Heathcliff would seat himself too on the barstool right beside. “What are we drinking tonight?” He asks then, hand pushing into the coat he wore to find an inner pocket there to rummage through. He was out of his usual, easily recognized attire, which mostly consisted of long, flowing robes Mireia had sewn for him, and had opted to put on a disguise outfit too. Something more unassuming and nondescript. Worn enough to not be an indicator of any status and preferring mobility, a loose shirt underneath a dark coat and dark pants close to skin, tucked into knee-high comfortable leather boots that were trusty and leak-free but had seen better days. Needless to say, his wings were completely gone, no additional appendages in sight. Green was gone from his eyes, now two dark pits swallowing all light. Even his hair had been glamoured shorter than he’d actually let it grow. For all intents and purposes, he could pass as any random vampire Joe that frequented the club, albeit some elementary facial features were kept to not make the glamour too complicated and therefore too taxing.
Part of him felt he should tell the other that he was on the clock, didn't have time for small talk, but his job description was to keep the clientele happy. If the stranger was buying drinks at the bar, in his books that counted, and small talk wouldn't harm. "Well, how can I deny you that pleasure?" Oleander grinned, taking the open seat next to the new patron.
The talk of a drawing raised his brow - it wasn't every day that someone came into Bite looking for someone specific, much less with a drawing ready to go to help identify their target. He contemplated his options for a moment, knowing it could get difficult to get around the wording of his answers if untruths were needed, but though he was young, Oleander was good at talking around a subject; you had to be in a place like this.
"Tequila over ice, if you're insisting." He smiled, glancing towards his colleague behind the bar before his eyes settled back on the man in front of him. Something really did seem familiar, but he was sure that he had never seen this man before in his life. It was a strange sensation, but perhaps against his better judgment, he let the matter go. "Before we start, you have to understand that there are certain people I cannot speak on or for, working in a place like this. If I can help you, I will. If I can't, then you'll be met with silence." It had to be that way, to protect his livelihood and his life. Leo wasn't about to fuck around with a Davenport's business and have himself wind up dead. As a Fae, he was more expendable than a human in the vampire's eyes. It was human blood they needed to survive; his was just like indulging in illicit substances.
Whether it's the threat of some random person or the idea of disturbing the master of the house, the vampire latched onto him seems to take it to heart, and Autumn needs only tug lightly and shove them gently back into the throng of revelers.
"He isn't," she says. "I'm looking for him. Need to know if he has work."
Everybody needs something in this blighted county, she's finding. Jack seems the sort to need something vile.
She's not about to give her real name out though - though the options for something recognizable are limited in a way that makes her face wrinkle in disgust - she's not about to tell somebody that Pumpkin is looking for Jack.
"It's fine," she says. "I'll find him."
And like that, she's about to turn away, but then she stops, tethered to the moment by something she can't quite understand. "You come here a lot? Know about this place?"
Her presence intrigued him, but he knew better than to stick his nose in Jakoris Davenport's business. He had no place in it and no reason to be anywhere near it unless the boss asked for him to be. "I'm not allowed to tell you if he's here or not," Leo repeated, avoiding confirming or denying his presence considering his little issue with being unable to tell lies.
He's about to tell her to wait, but she stops and continues the conversation of his own accord. "I work here, so yes, I'm pretty familiar with the ins and outs." Oleander chuckled softly, looking the woman over again.
"I can go and look for him, give him your description if he's here. The ball can be in his court as to whether he comes out to see you or not. Or I won't find him, and you'll have to figure out where he is." The fae offered. Something about the woman in front of him told him that she was certainly someone Jakoris would have dealings with. He was no witch, but it was almost like an aura that exuded from her - she was dark enough inside that she could do what the Davenport asked of her, and likely barter for what she needed in return.
The fact that Malcolm was even giving her a choice only made Freyja feel more comfortable and safe with him. Not that she hadn't before -- but this form of interaction was different. For so long, she didn't have the power over what was taken from her. She was born a human, which meant she would be used for the rest of her life by the supernatural creatures that roamed the earth. But she didn't feel that way around Malcolm. He made her feel like she had the power.
She swallowed hard as she tilted her head to the side, lifting her hand and pulling her long, dark locks from her neck. "You can drink from here." She whispered, her cheeks reddening as he spread her legs wider and stood in between them. Her stomach swirled with butterflies and she quickly placed her own hand over his, which was next to her on the desk. "I trust you."
Eyes focused in on her neck with precision as she moved her hair out of the way, already listening to the rushing of blood flowing through her veins. Malcolm was only pulled from his thoughts by the hand on his, glancing down at it for a moment before looking back at her. "You tell me to stop if you need to, and I will stop." He wasn't sure if he was saying that more for her or himself; a vow that he intended to keep. The vampire had practice under his belt now; he could do this without killing her. God, he hoped he could do this without killing her.
Mouth dipped slowly towards her neck, breathing in her scent as fangs traced across her skin. A moment passed, and as carefully as he could, he indulged both of them. Canines broke skin, and Freyja's blood was filling his mouth. He drank slowly, with intention, like he had been taught. Savour every mouthful, let it sit for a moment before swallowing it down so that the monster can truly appreciate it and the fulfillment it provides. Being slow was the key to his control.
The hand on his desk moved to her waist, pulling her closer roughly as he took his next mouthful of her. He had made an oversight, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't just human, she was a witch; it made her blood even more of a delicacy, something he would crave. It made it more difficult to stop, but he did stop.
Malcolm licked at the blood that dripped from the wound before biting into his own wrist and offering it to her. "It'll heal you. So you don't scar, so you feel better sooner."
"Someone sure was trigger-happy." The mermaid smirked in amusement having witnessed the scene for a time. Brought along as date by one of her regulars, Deniz had been attempting to pass the time by people-watching. Seeing who she might recognize, and then imagining the lives of those she didn't. As long as her regular was getting fed and felt happy for their night together afterward, she held no complaints.
As the vampire left the Fae alone, off to find whatever new snack enticed them enough, the courtesan stood up from her spot. "I take it this is quite a sweet gig for you?" she pondered. Soon taking a nearby seat while gazing at the man. She was always on the search for extra gigs to combine with the two she had. Whatever she can find to provide for her siblings, she'll take it. No matter what. "You certainly seem popular with our fanged friends." Leeches, more like.
He looked towards the voice, chuckling at the statement. It was normal when Fae blood was like a drug to these vampires - always desired, and yet he was never enough to pass around them all. They ought to start a wait list, but he was trusted to know his limits, and whose attention to get if they were pushed.
"Pretty sweet, yeah." Leo replied, watching as the stranger moved towards him and sat closer. "I've worked hard for the reputation. As much as people may like to talk, this employment was sought out by me. The bite is almost intoxicating." Well, most of them anyway. "You contemplating joining the gang? You're pretty, I'm sure that would go down well enough."
Malcolm hesitated, not expecting Jack to actually ask him about what his ideas for Bite were, and his mind went blank. He'd had ideas in the past, sure, but he couldn't think of any now and that nickname certainly wasn't helping him remember. Jakoris knew he hated it. "Well, none right now but in the past I certainly wasn't listened to." He rebutted, trying his best to not jut out his bottom lip like a child who'd just been caught in a lie.
The chuckle against his skin sends shivers down his spine, the knot in his stomach tightening as he tried his best to fight the urges that came every time the other would sink fangs into him. It was too late though, he knew that; it had been too late the second he'd gasped Jack's name aloud.
At the question, Malcolm nodded, a small yes escaping his lips as he tried not to show how truly flustered he was, yet Jack knew it. He always did, always had done; it was as though Jakoris was a weakness the moment those sharpened canines even threatened to come into contact with his skin, but the younger vampire liked it too much to even dare think about fighting it.
The look in the other Davenport's eyes were enough for Mal to know what he wanted. He had always enjoyed the chase. A chase that he didn't want Firelight to be a part of in any way, but his thoughts were too clouded to care. He would stay away from his office, and Freyja's room; that was all he needed to do. Plenty of rooms were unoccupied, especially on the third floor. After a moment of staring at Jakoris, needful eyes begging the other to follow through, he sped off through Firelight, making for the stairs. In a flash he was on the third floor, picking a room with roof access to disappear into.
"I don't remember any ideas." Jakoris replies, chuckling at how easily Mal cops out when given the floor to speak. Quickly distracted by fangs in a throat, and a reminder that he hadn't always been so willing to bend; he'd once hunted the same thing he now enjoyed to get ruined by.
Jack knows that like scripture, and there's been a plethora of places they've wrecked in the name of the elder getting his point across; relieving agitation, and tension when someone else isn't around. Malcolm's one of them, in every sense of the word. He's softer, in places, needier, maybe. But there's nothing quite like watching him squirm, and plead, knowing that Jakoris could take it all away from him.
And he does.
All that hunger, captured in the tongue that swipes the blood from his lips, says Mal's caved for nothing. Or at least ― not enough, because he wants to keep Firelight out of his hands, and as some kind of solace for ragtags and vagabonds. That's fine. But he's wasting the potential for everything it could be. Jack knows the look, and his smile isn't cruelty, but amusement. Does Malcolm get rewarded because he stood up against Jakoris? Ha. "Go on then, run." It'd be on his own. Waiting. Desperate. Jack thinks that Mal will have to reach between his own legs, and imagine he has company other than himself.
Mal does run. And Jack's laughter echoes off the lobby walls, eyes that follow the empty space ― the direction he'd ran in. Whilst disappointing in some ways, it's a mercy that it's all Jack would do to him, in his underlying annoyance. He's trouble, but it's the kind worth playing with.
Jack just plans to play this game another time. He'll leave Malcolm wanting; he's gotten a taste already and it's still fresh on his tongue. So, when the Davenport takes a step towards Firelight's door. It's to leave. The only thing he thinks is a shame, is that he won't get to see Malcolm's face when he learns that his begging is in vain.
END.
She wants to make him something like a beard. Enticing, if only because it sounds like there's no strings attached to this game. If she offers enough of herself, to satiate his curiosity. They can tangle in whatever exchange she's good for, anytime. Jakoris doesn't know much about Nolan; rumoured to be a newly changed, running the slaughter ring. The kind, he supposes, to still be infatuated with mortals like this one. Because he's yet to know any different. His tastes are echoes of what they used to be, still. He doesn't know how they die so easily to time, and the clock keeps turning for them.
Now that would be a game; entangling with this woman, only to snuff her out in front of the inexperienced man's gaze. Watch him learn a lesson he'll eventually know, regardless. Jack hasn't torn one of his own to pieces in quite some time; he isn't sure how that would fly given the new, peace laws.
"You sure you want him back? He sounds like a drag." A smirk, because he hasn't considered that she's playing him, as much as she wants to be played.
Jack's seen every kind of desperation wander through the walls of Bite; there's little that surprises him about skewed intentions. Where's Deus when Jack wants a partner in this? They would make this girl forget all about Nolan.
With a hand still wrapped around her throat, she'd opted to taunt him. He isn't sure who's braver or more foolish; her, or the vampire that dared to obey her command with Jack's hand still tight around her windpipe. A face he will not forget, behind darkening eyes. She's in love. How poetic. How tragic. With a vampire, of all things. If she truly wanted to upset the boy, then she could find another eager person to make her into something anew. Steal away the bond that could have been ever so sweet for them.
Jakoris doesn't make new ones, so it'll never be him.
"Baby, he'll always need you. You're one of the things that keeps him fed." A necessity, no matter what. If Jack is to involve himself in a long game, then he wants compensation for his time; his effort to play into the role she desires. He's not so easily swayed, without reason. "And what does a confrontation from a man who operates bloodsports, look like?" A jibe, because Jakoris imagines it's not pretty. "Will you cry for him when I put his head on your lap?"
She's in love with him, of course she would. She might try to hunt him down, too. Make it really fun. "If you want me to play along, sugarpop." he pretends to mull it over, loosening fingers from her throat, to instead graze a set of knuckles across her jugular. "Then I get this, whenever I fancy it. You—" All of it. "—whenever I desire." His eyes light up like sparks detonating mines; it's the same terms as any vampire might offer her. No fanfare. Just indulgence. "If I have to serve your whim for this little game, then you'll run to me, too, when I ask."
A drag? Nolan was anything but - or at least, when it came to anything that left feelings far behind them. The thrills Annalise had seen and participated in because of her ex-boyfriend were ones she would never pass up, even if others looked down on her for it. When they hunted together, it was like a spark meeting gunpowder and igniting everything around them both. It was the chaos she craved and couldn't get in her militia-run home.
"You think? I don't think you'd like each other very much, too similar. Except I imagine you to think you're far too superior to ever be considered alike to him." The blonde returned the smirk, watching how his eyes darkened at the vampire that fed on her. Possessive already? Or perhaps feeling disrespected? It was intriguing, nevertheless. "Do you plot murder in your mind at every vampire that feeds on someone you have your hands wrapped around, or am I just special, sugar?"
Jakoris was wrong. She was sure he wasn't used to hearing or believing that, but she was replaceable. All Nolan needed was blood, and Annalise was an easy way to get it, but if he wanted to, he could compel whichever human he chose and keep them at his side for his needs. She still wasn't sure if it was the ease or their prior connection that kept him close. "All humans are replaceable. At least, until you all fuck up and deplete the population even more. I'm not stupid enough to believe I'm anything but an asset to him. Someone he knows can't often say no to him. Nolan knows how to take advantage of what's right in front of him." It was how he became a vampire, built his empire; sure, there was probably a little hard work in there - some blood, sweat, and tears - but she couldn't imagine any of it being Nolan's.
"You won't kill him. Hurt him if he gets physical, sure, but you're older. You don't need to kill him." A term she'd forgotten to put down with the others, but it was one of her terms nonetheless. Her tone made that obvious.
The cold touch sent shivers down her spine as fingers like icicles traced the very vein he could rip from her throat in an instant. "I wouldn't expect any less." A deal struck, and her eyes sparkle with a glimmer of hope that she might finally get her man back.
Annalise didn't think about what would happen later in life as she grew older, wrinkled and decrepit, someone Nolan would never be attracted to in a thousand lifetimes. It was a conversation for a different day, and one that she wasn't willing to have if it meant becoming a monster.
"Would you like to seal the deal with a bite?"
