→✠♘✠←
❝…..!❞
Though sharp canine teeth tore open the skin of his neck and drew blood from beneath, Durbe did not yield and surrender his voice to Vector’s actions. He had read of such things before; touches as this were either meant to be an imitation of vampirism or the mark of a sadistic lover. In Vector’s case, he was sure that it was far more the former than the latter.
He scrunched his eyes tightly closed, feeling tears well up at the corners—a normal reaction to the pain of a sensitive expanse of skin being punctured so violently. Durbe willed himself to endure the painful pressure, hoping that it would be over quickly. Already, he looked forward to cleaning and treating the bite.
❝You’ve made your mark—now release me and return those. They’re expensive. I can’t afford to replace them.❞
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When his teeth retracted, a line of blood and spit clung in several places to his mouth, stretching and breaking off as he pulled away. The wound was a mass of dark red, the excess spilling lazily off his shoulder; and torn tissue. It would bruise up soon enough, the punctures were rough enough to leave a fairly good mark. Hopefully it would last awhile.
❝ ... ❞ Vector ran the sleeve of his shirt over his mouth, smearing the residue onto it and his cheek. His tongue and teeth were tainted crimson, but even that would lessen and fade in a few minutes. It was a strange sensation to swallow it back, in that way maybe he was marked too. How ironic.
He extended his hand, the glasses offered at first, and then pressed more forcibly onto the other's chest. Part of him still wanted to break them, but it was a good trade, Durbe had been good on his word. That left many openings. For now the Barian contented himself with the metallic after-taste, strolling over to the fridge to inspect it's contents. The cold air felt good against the wet marks on his face.
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