golden boy.

william o'connell. thirty-seven. aethyrian. ❝ there is nothing left, and so we build anew. ❞

[ofconnell]

( tyler hoechlin, cis man, he/him ) — Look what the werecat’s dragged in! If you take a look at our records, you’ll find that WILLIAM O'CONNELL is a THIRTY SEVEN year old TEACHER that’s been in Cromerth Woods for A SHORT WHILE. According to this file, they're a NYMPH-BLOOD hailing all the way from AETHYRIA. That must be why they're KIND and SELF-SACRIFICING If you ask me, they remind me of the the first breath of spring, a smiling face on a darkened day, and the memory of bodies returned to the earth. They are allied with the AETHYRIAN REFUGEES. ( kael, 25, GMT+8:00, he/him )

[idgie-knight]

So strange. And made stranger by the normalcy of Florence trotting happily around their ankles, sniffing with the placid happiness of a dog nearing the end of its walk. But he gets it too; he understands. It's not in Imogen's nature to trust men blindly, but right now she does. He says he understands and she knows this to be true; he takes a step forward and Imogen doesn't take a step back. "Yes--" she says faintly.

Shifting her senses to the natural world around them, Imogen silently asks of the flora what to make of this. Stooping, she touches the earth. Shifting through dark, damp soil, a fairy ring mushroom pushes its head curiously through the ground, then another beside it. A sparse circle forms around Will, and Imogen knows they are fond. "Marasmius oreades are very good judges of character. But you're not a dryad." It's a question; an indirect one, because Imogen is rarely direct. Though there is something so comforting in Will's presence, she is still caught off guard, and feels for the moment like a skittish sapling, tender roots reaching out for sweet fresh water -- tentatively, in case the taste cannot be trusted.

[ofconnell]

There's magic. Aethyrian magic. And for a moment, Will feels like home again, and his body feels like the trunk of an old redwood in the grove. Strong and hale, roots as deep into earth, leaves springing up for sunlight. His body feels odd, like the dormant steel in the earth had dulled his senses and now his blood calls to the magic, sharpening himself as roots search for water in the soil. He knows some bit of spells, old things that his parents and his parents' parents passed down from their old nymph ancestor.

In response, Will takes a breath and small leaves of crabgrass simply spring up from the soil. A single flower, a frail and oddly-shaped orchid manifests near a mushroom, to try to at least give this woman a sense of ease. "I'm not. My ancestor, old gods bless her spirit, was one. A good one, I'm told. Perhaps that's what you're feeling," he replies, tone even and kind. "I mean no ill will, but are you—that is, my name is William, if—if that helps put you at ease?"

[woodstangled]

"oh, you're right," he says, laughing a little more nervously than he wants to. it's actually a solid point, too. a fae would have loved to get him like that back home. who's to say something... darker... wouldn't relish in the chance of something worse? given the thought, he doesn't mind when will pulls him a little closer. "don't want to jinx it." thankfully, nothing seems to be out wanting to help them lose their way today—turns out his new neighbor knows where he's going after all. "it's... yeah, this is me," he offers, this time willful in his sheepishness. it's really not much, is it? a slice a crooked wall. "um," he starts, glancing at the rickety door and back at will again. home sweet home, right? "thanks. again. for helping me out."

[ofconnell]

It's not exactly nice, but Will refrains from pointing it out. Danny probably already knows—and there really wasn't enough for the refugees to live in either. As he talks, the sheepish tone and nerves make his heart melt for a moment, and impulse starts with his body instead of his mind. Hugs usually help in his mind, and he simply goes for it once more. While he's no gargantuan man, he's been told that his hugs feel solid, and that is exactly what he would like to impart onto him. That feeling of stable ground as the world moves, the feeling of someone at least trying to look out for him.

"You're welcome, Danny. And hey—just look for me near the big tree here. Just a couple of blocks that a way." Pointing to the far right, he smiles, and puts a hand on his arm. "Don't be a stranger, yeah? Can't wait to see your face again!"

[smitebound]

it's all a little surreal. will's hands glide against cold skin and bloodstains alike, his scuffed shirt pulled from him with more genteel than he's expecting. maybe it's weakness. blood loss. he's fresh out of that frying pan. still, he comes right back for more. is it more kicked puppy or willful ignorance? ezra doesn't think too hard on it—the hands hovering dangerously at his zipper are much more enticing. "don't you get it yet, will?" it's all just a little too much to bear. will may still be petered out, but he's got an angry sex monster inside him beating its chest and hollering. ezra's never been good at refusing it. he can't help himself. striking like a viper, he surges forward to pull will into a very hungry kiss. "i don't want you to let go," he mumbles in between all but tonguefucking the inside of his mouth, hands grabbing fistfuls of whatever they can reach. kissing like this has never felt so good. good gods he feels so alive! it's different from his late night excursions with ihsan—the smack usually keeps him stable. feels like it keeps him stable. this... doesn't. he's teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to drop. he's always liked that feeling. the wind before the fall. "fuck," he pulls back, kissing along his jaw, dragging his tongue down to his throat. he can practically taste his heartbeat in between kisses. without thinking, his lips settle above the vein in his neck, pulsing at him like a lighthouse to a ship at sea. his grip tightens ever-so-slightly, breath heavy in the back of this throat. one bite and he could—his fangs are out before he can blink, let alone finish a thought. the next moment, he's gone—replaced by a pile of trousers on the floor and a whoosh of air as he throws himself into shower. casually. he only retches once at how painful it is to tear himself away. a moment later, he's composed and peeking around the curtain. "water's nice and warm," he says, very casual and extremely composed and not beginning to crack around the edges. "if you're—if you'd like to join. figure you should at least wash your face off. i left a bit of a... smear."

[ofconnell]

Don't you get it, Will? No. He doesn't. The gods know that what Will might have made up for in heart, he would have lost in his brains, but Ezra shocks him right back into place. He feels his mouth in waves and torrents, kisses falling over him like dead leaves before the wintertime. He doesn't let go of his buttons, of course, shocked by the turn of events as he feels lips on him, cold and enticing all the same. His kiss, like everything else about him, feels hungry. Will is simply caught in the undertow of emotion, letting everything ride out in a pleasurable wave.

His tongue drags, his lips touch his jaw as it sends shivers down his spine. The hollow of his throat feels exposed, as if he could take a second bite—and if he did, Will wonders if Ezra would have stopped. It doesn't matter, since as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the fangs are flashed and suddenly, he's left holding nothing, wrenched from his grip like the last toy at the shop. Will can only blink, as he's been told that the blood—oh right, he's got blood on him now, silly him, is coating his face. A woefully applied rouge that coats him crimson.

"I—of course!" He divests himself of his clothes, the shirt first, ruined by blood and his trousers. It's not a show. But it's not... not a show. He's naked, and he walks in, only the curtain separating them for a moment. "And I mean. Someone's got to get your back, right? I—" He forces his eyes to stay on Ezra's face, as he somehow realizes a minute after ridding himself of his garments that he's actually naked in front of him. "Ah. Fuck. Well," he says, walking into the all-too cramped shower. "Inside then. Let's get that blood off us, yeah?"

[woodstangled]

danny makes an undeniable squeak as will pulls him in for an unexpected hug—not unwelcome, but also not particularly helpful to the flush that's steadily been spreading across his body. he even feels it under all his fur. does it make him feel better or worse that will seems completely oblivious to it? better, he thinks. at least that way he isn't embarrassing himself. "i think as long as we don't miss each other on the way over... we'll be okay. one of us will open the door and see the other eventually, right?"

[ofconnell]

"Let's not jinx it—who knows what kind of luck the gods of this world would give us, eh?" His arm pulls Danny closer as they wind their way through the streets. It looks odd, and the place says that they're near, and he simply looks at Danny with a questioning look on his face, since he'd probably know if they were woefully off-course, or just a little off the mark. "So, I—wait, is this your home? Do we have to jump fences? I don't want you putting yourself through anything you don't need to!"

[smitebound]

"gentlemanly?" now that's funny. he doesn't think he's ever been told to be gentlemanly, before. most of the people he associates with appreciate his brutality—or at least his wit—and nothing else. others don't tend to appreciate him much at all. but as amusing as the suggestion is, ezra thinks he could get used to a higher opinion of himself—it seems like, most times, he's the only one who thinks like that! refreshing, then, to finally have someone in agreement—or close to it, anyway. maybe brake on the gentlemanly and put the gas on... oh, charm or attractiveness or even intelligence, although he would prefer to be rated on his looks, first. otherwise, the implication is that he's not a gift to look upon—one he doesn't appreciate, for that matter! effortlessly and a little obliviously, as far as will's uncertainty among piping is concerned, ezra slips into the bathroom after him and starts the water. he likes it a little warmer, now. covers up his chill. "i'd rather you took it off for me," he says, after taking the time to fully appreciate the spectacle of what he's been offered—will's body really is a sight to behold. especially now that he's out of his shirt, even though he would concede that it's just as enjoyable to watch him bulge out of them. "you've done so well on yourself... 'course, i think cleaning it might be out of the question. it's already started to dry." and blood stains so deeply, too. he would probably be able to smell it, still. is that an argument for keeping it? "i'll just have to borrow one of yours."

[ofconnell]

Sighing fondly at the man in question, Will simply moves into his space and places his hands gingerly at the hem of his shirt, as if he were removing the cloth on an icon of a saint or their god. It's a slow thing, fingertips brushing against skin despite himself, and Will's eyes unable to meet Ezra's as he performs what should be a quick task. Perhaps it's the lingering feeling that Ezra would do better to leave when he finishes his shower, or maybe the though that he would sneak away into the night, as he should. So he takes his time. He sheds his shirt carefully, and folds it quicky and neatly onto the counter.

His hands take the button of his pants and he pauses, realizing what he's done, though not letting go at this point. Would it be better, or worse if he did? He wasn't keen to find out. "I'll—uh," Will's hands linger, a small weight on Ezra's hips as he tries to think of a response. "I'll be sure to put a nice one out for you. Is this—should I? I mean you're a grown man, not that you can't do it, I just—" Will's voice catches as his eyes linger now on Ezra's, wondering if he can't simply stay like this for a while. "If you want me to let go, I can."

[woodstangled]

"oh you have—" that shouldn't be as surprising as it is, but... somehow, it still comes as a surprise. maybe it's just that most parents didn't seem to make it out. it's nice that someone did. someone young. but horrid, too... that anyone would have to live through their childhood in such a wretched state. "that's nice. i mean—i've always liked kids." part-goat or otherwise. it's never mattered to him. "but i'd love to—" gods it's difficult to speak like this, as flustered as he is; "—i'd love to come over some time."

[ofconnell]

I'd love to come over some time. He knew his old village, from the oldest person to the youngest babe, and so living like this. Unmoored except for a couple of people that know his name—and now, one more that would help him set down roots in this world. "Yeah!" He doesn't hide his excitement and happiness, grinning from ear to ear as Will hugs him, quick and tight as they continue onward. "I'll be expecting you, now. Hope we don't get the same bright idea and end up waiting on each other's front steps like dummies!" A laugh bubbles up from his chest as he imagines it, Will with hot pastries and Danny just standing there. "Could you imagine?"

[smitebound]

it's always a treat when he's able to make someone flustered. most people in cromerth are used to this sort of thing—it isn't named hell's mouth for nothing—and surprinsingly, even less forgiving for new material. rough crowds, that's for certain. but not will. no, he'll react to anything... even sometimes when he's not funny about it. it happens, on occasion. "great. i'll take probably," he says, grinning ear to ear. part of it is that he can't quite get his mouth to close—not with him leaking like he is—but nobody else needs to know that—let the assumption be that he's a proper gentleman. that he's amused. not that he's—well, best to leave those thoughts in the dust. "you don't need an invitation, love." he doesn't comment on any hasty actions—would be hypocritical if he did. as if he hasn't knocked things over, before. as if he wouldn't again. he would! "'course... if that's you wanting one, consider yourself invited. here i thought i was the only one that needed one." but now that he's in the house? everything is fair game. except the garlic and the silverware. that's going to take some getting used to...

[ofconnell]

"It's gentlemanly, Ezra. And besides, I'd imagine you'd want to invite someone to lay their hands on you first." The venom in his neck feels odd, like decaying roots and ivy refusing to leave a wall. It feels—well, oddly good to Will, though he doesn't want to say it. Like alcohol, but a slow burn in his chest instead of rushing to his head in a fast torrent, a slow trickling of pain that he aches for. How odd that he seeks it out now, when it all but caused the ruin of their world. His hands don't press against it anymore, his inherited gifts, all but starting to close the wounds a little faster than normal.

His bathroom is an odd thing, valves and pipes that he still hasn't gotten used to. Will preferred a rushing river, one all but a nice walk from his home, clean and clear, instead of from the spout of something metallic. But he does as the world is taught, and simply leads Ezra to his shower, taking his own shirt off slowly. Not like a show. But not... not like a show. "Come on then, Shaw. Let's get your bloody shirt off—cleaning it's going to be hard." Will remarks teasingly. "Not enough magic in my blood to get a cleaning spell going."

[woodstangled]

it's incredible how easy it is for will to pull him right back into his own embarrassment... seemingly effortlessly! or willfully, even. he at least seems aware that he's been known to say some... easily misconstrued things. "i've never been very... social, either," he says, partly to deflect ( he doesn't mean it like that! ) and partly because it's true. he's not. that's part of the reason he's struggling here. "but—yeah, mostly. sometimes it's just nice to have your own space, you know?" but he's just saying that, really. he's never been alone like this before. not since... the old grove was destroyed. "do you? live alone, i mean."

[ofconnell]

"I live with my kid—and sometimes I have friends over. I think you'd like them. One's rough around the edges, the other only comes out at night." Will sighs fondly, thinking about the both of them. His two trusted companions, his dearest friends. Ah, pieces of his heart scattered through Cromerth Woods. He bumps into Danny, grinning at his newfound friend, though it all but felt presumptuous for him to just call the satyr that right when they'd met. "But if you want to just come over, just give me a knock and holler." Will smiles at him. "I'd love to see you in my house. Use those legs of your anywhere you need!"

[smitebound]

"you're probably right about that. i've taken a bit more than that log of yours can handle." it's a wonder sometimes that will doesn't get headaches whenever he starts to get bothersome—how much blood can the human ( err... mostly human? ) body shunt away before it starts to shut down? more than he should reasonably drink, but not by much. seems like that could be about equal to what his third leg might demand. "morning might change his mind, though. what do you think? will he be a proper cock and wake up for sunrise?" tame of you. quite right. ezra isn't usually the sort to plug his leaks, as it were, but he likes to think he can understand the concept of time and place. right after he's wrung will's neck out like a towel? probably not the best time to get nasty with it. "you know i'll always come back 'round for seconds. but i like to think i've got a bit of tact about me. wouldn't want to spread you out on the floor, here." or, he would... but not right now. he's not that desperate! "on that note," he scoops will up into his arms like he's carrying a bag of marshmallows; "let's get to the bedroom, love. think that'll be a little more—oh, keep that pressure on. you're still bleeding," he interrupts himself, shifting to press will's hand back against the wound on his neck. no surprise, vampire venom is an anti-coagulant. "as i was saying," he continues, starting off toward the bedroom. "let's get you comfortable. and me a shower, i think."

[ofconnell]

Every syllable out of Ezra's mouth has Will feel like the harsh eye of the sun sears into his skin, every word hitting him like an arrow to the flesh as his heart picks up faster and faster. "I don't—probably?" His voice feels like a pitch higher as he starts to feel a tiny bit hysterical, or at least exposed as Ezra talks about his dick like he had the keys to the kingdom. God, he'd travel through sunrise for it, it looks like—and Will has no self-control to say no to him.

His hand's left his neck and he gasps, remembering the faint gush of blood that starts to drip down his neck like a leaky faucet. It takes a moment as he sees Ezra walk, entranced by him simply moving as he stands with a start, knocking over the chair in his haste. Stupid mistake. It makes him look like a lovesick fool, which he was, but he didn't like announcing that to Ezra. Like a dog on a leash, waiting for his next treat.

"No invitation, huh? You really are tame now, Ez." He follows to his bedroom, a dingy little thing somehow with an en suite that barely spouted hot water, smiling as he watches Ezra walk through his home like he owns it. Or belongs in it. It wasn't a notion that Will was keen on disproving, of course.

[woodstangled]

"i hope the inside is a little roomier. i'm not much smaller than you are." he's never really considered himself a large man, though. not really. he's about average for a faun... in most places. not where it counts. doesn't really matter anymore, does it? whatever the case, he tries not to think on it—he doesn't want to soil whatever good experience he's finally managing to have. even if it is a little... erm, awkward in places. places that he hasn't even seemed to notice! is that strange? "but—hey," he pauses, biting back a noise of surprise as will's hand smacks against his furry behind. "you're, um, you're not bad company. i don't mind listening to you talk."

[ofconnell]

"Thanks. Sometimes I think my mouth is the best part of me, then I manage to stick my foot in it and then realize that it's probably not." He laughs at that, a little awkwardly as he feels a bit of a blush coming on. Maybe he's just being humored by Danny—maybe he's done way too many things that he's just too polite to be called out on. And as they come to a fork in the road that probably looks like the fork in the road on the map, Will simply trudges along, trying to keep the conversation going. "So, do you just live alone? I know you said you have a place—any Aethyrians come and shack up with you?"

[smitebound]

there he is. ezra's lips part in half a grin, watching life return to will. it really had been a scare, for just a moment, that he would overdo it... go too far, and it doesn't matter if he stops anymore. living things can only go without so much of their blood. fragile things. funny to think that he had ever been among them—and yet, not quite so long ago, he had been just as fragile, just as mortal, as the rest of them. it all feels so far away now. everything feels far away, now. is it will or the high he gets from sating his natural instincts? hard to say. "well, you've got a point there. i'd rather rub you off than rub off on you." there's no space in his life for another ezra shaw, anyway. he prefers will to be who he is—that's exactly what's drawn him into his life. of course... that doesn't mean they can't mingle. relationships are a joint affair by design. if will wants to get a little friskier for his influence, who is he to stop him? let him live!, he would say. and maybe save a little for yours truly? if it's not too much to ask... will's request isn't quite what he expects. not quite what he hopes for, either... but he's been aware that his chances are a little lower than usual tonight. he's charged up and raring to go, particularly after a little tumble through the streets, but will? he's ready to crash. hasn't been sleeping all day. hell, can sleep at all. he can't. just sort of shuts off. doesn't feel the same. "i can keep you company, at least. can't promise much else. 'course, you'll see me home safe tomorrow, won't you, love? or else i'll be stuck here until nightfall." not the worst thing in the world...

[ofconnell]

Every word that comes out of Ezra's mouth is sin incarnate. His face tries to force a blush as Will still has the decency to make his heart beat like it's been running like a rabbit trying to escape a fox. His hand doesn't leave his thigh, but he sodiers on. "You can rub me off all you want, but I think—" Will takes a gulp of air as he tries to form sentences with words that won't come. "Well, you did take plenty of blood from me. I don't think that, uh, little Will might come up for air."

At the offer, Will simply grins and kisses him on the cheek. For all his talk of being vicious or snide, he does have his moments, and one of them warms Will's heart as if it never left his home. Perhaps he could simply have already found it in Cromerth with him, but it takes a while for even the descendant of a nymph to put down roots. "Company, huh?" He leans forward and rests his forehead on Ezra's, a slight moment of confidence between the two of them. A moment of intimacy. "Tame of you. Half-expected you to come back around for seconds."

Right. The little situation of the sun. His eyes flit to the blackened umbrella and full-body heavy blanket that he has on standby just in case that Ezra comes along. "I'll see you home, Ez." A hand touches his waist, and he smiles, the small gnarl in his chest whining about something he can't name. "Even maybe give you a snack to go, because you've been good."

[idgie-knight]

Imogen can't get a dog of her own, not in her small apartment, but she's found an app that partners her with dog owners, and she gets to walk them. It's nice, because she gets to go outside and be with an animal, and the owner gets a break. She's particularly fallen in love with a young couple's king charles spaniel, called Florence, who she is currently walking. Imogen is chattering happily to Florence, focusing mostly on her, until the dog stops, sniffing-- sniffing very intently, and Imogen looks up. Florence found a man! And for some reason, Imogen feels... staggered. Homesick and welcome at the same time. "Oh. Are you..." she doesn't know how to phrase it without sounding weird. It's like something in his blood sings to something in her's. "Do I know you?" her voice sounds a little weak. @ofconnell

[ofconnell]

There's something in the winds, something sad in Cromerth Woods. It's almost as if the steel sings, but in a way that is foreign to Will himself. He sees the sharp beauty of it all still, but it doesn't agree with his body it seems. Much like too-tight shoes or an ill-fitting shirt, his senses all but put against the unnatural feeling of his surroundings—he misses the grass of his old grove, of the wood that sings, but he'll have to make do with his plants, he supposes.

Or so he thinks, as he feels a twinge in his chest as he looks at the woman in front of him. Like tuning forks to the other, Will simply stares, trying to figure out what's happening before he talks. "I—no. But I think I understand." He tilts his head, frowning and taking a step forward, "He—hello. I've—were you with the refugees?"

[ofconnell]

"It wouldn't be dumb, but I'd pout like a kicked puppy." And he certainly would! Shiny eyes and everything. The streets turn winding and treacherous, and he finds himself always putting a hand on Danny, just in case they get separated. "You don't mind, do you? My hands?" He suddenly feels embarrassed, putting his hands on a stranger he barely even met—he should have asked, but now it's too late to do anything about it. "Sorry. Old habits. But—well, I'd love to have you come. To the house or honestly, even one of those shops that they let us in some days. Come anywhere, really," he replies, excited in thinking about the new friend he's certain to have made. "I'd have you anywhere!"

[woodstangled]

"that's my weakness," he admits, cracking another smile. "someone throws the puppy eyes at me and i'm all theirs." it's true. he's very susceptible to other people's emotions that way. not among the best traits to have during wartime. or in a world like this, for that matter. everything just feels wrong. except— "no!" oops, too eager. "i mean, i don't mind. really." it's the best walk back home he's ever had, so far... as sad as that might be—he's forgotten how nice it is just to have someone care about whether he gets home or not. someone who he doesn't know, that is. everyone here seems much less concerned about one another... danny chokes on air for a moment, ears going from pink to red. to the house. he had said to the house. that's it. to the house. it has nothing to do with anything else, just... wording. that's all. but telling himself that doesn't make him feel any less flustered in his presence. i'd have you anywhere! gods, what is he supposed to say to that? especially when now the thought is in his mind and fuck, it's not leaving. anywhere? no, not like that! stop it! it feels like beating his mind back with a stick. "that would be really nice of you," he says instead, even if he does sound a little choked up about it. "i'd love to come over sometime."

[ofconnell]

Danny going from pink to red is a little strange, but perhaps he was just tired from all the walking—Will understands, it's almost as if they'd been walking for ages with no direction and gods know that even a wandering plant needs water to grow. Taking a moment, he stops and looks at the directions Danny's been given, getting closer so the both of them can look. The directions are horrible but they're honestly no better than what he could come up with, so he shouldn't say anything too horrible about them.

"You'd love the place. I squeeze in through the front—gods willing I fit, right? But the house is perfect otherwise, though it really wasn't made for a person my size." Will laughs, shaking his head. "I'm a large man, apparently. Must be my nymph ancestor working for me! Maybe she was a spirit of a large woodland tree!" Will pats his furry side without thinking and grins. "But hey, as far as I know, we're almost there, Danny. You'll listen to me yap just a little bit more then you're home free."

[ofconnell]

The last thing he remembers is I'll be careful before something simply happens, mouth against neck, clamped down like a vice against him, his head woozy from the immediate loss of blood. It feels like nothing he's ever felt before—indescribable for a moment before he realizes what's happened, is happening. Ezra was hurt. Ezra was hungry. Ezra eats. It takes a little before his faculties come back to him, from the surprise of it all as he feels the man grip him tightly.

To be held like this is simply not expected, while he was certainly sturdy, he felt like the weakest twig during a wildfire, able to be snapped in half by a light breeze as he keeps going, drinking deep from a well that he can't exactly restore that easily. Will hasn't expected this feeling in his body, the warmth of his blood drain as he sits and grabs onto Ezra, driftwood bodies along the riptide of hunger. He has to push him away, right? He has to.

Will pauses, whimpering weakly as he feels something stir within him. If he could blush he would. He simply crosses his legs instead, and tries to get a word out, but with the blood pouring out of him, he figures that anything said can wait. Maybe he could withstand it. Maybe. And in the end, Ezra unlatches roughly, the spurts of blood from his neck a testament as to how quick and how... forceful it was.

"I—what? Oh. I'm good. I'm very—" His hand weakly put over Ezra's. Will feels cold, as if the earth itself roiled against him for doing this. "Uh, I'll be better in a while I think. That was..." A loss for words. Will himself at a loss for words. He feels like there are adjectives for this. He was teacher for the gods' sake—he should be able to describe this without embarrassing himself. Good! Fun! Certainly not going to be in his dreams for a while! "Intense. You really have a mouth on you, huh, Ezra?"

[smitebound]

first, he chooses to look at everything he's done right. that's reasonable, isn't it? good news before the bad? he didn't kill anyone. that's worth something. he did pull off on his own. he hadn't even been sure that was possible! humanoid blood is just so much... better... than anything else... and even though he's already drank more than his fair share, ezra's eyes circle back to the towel he's holding against will's neck. the hand will has placed over it. paler than usual, but still flushed and full of life compared to his own dull pallor. the more he stares, the harder it is to keep his fangs away. he can feel them perched just behind a small slit in his gums. we're here, they whisper to him. i know, he wants to whisper back; i want it too. and he does. still, even after all he's already taken. he feels like a tick. has more in common with them now, he thinks, than he ever has. i get it! i get it now! he would spend the rest of his life, if he could, growing fat against another creatures' veins—but he shouldn't. slowly, his vulturous gaze circles away from the towel, the wound pulsing at him from underneath, and back toward will's pale face. intense. say again? some shadow of a smirk manages to find its way back to his face. muscle memory, maybe. the snort that follows feels more like him. whatever that's supposed to feel like, anymore. "are you really coming onto me right now? here i thought i was supposed to be the sex pest." maybe it's a survival strategy. turn off his big brain, where the hunger sits, and turn on... the other one, where the rest of him, more often than not, seems to stay. cunning strategy. he's powerless but to approve. "or maybe i'm just rubbing off on you," he adds, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. what was all that about existential dread and how good gods, everything he's been trying to fight against is starting to fester in him like an old wound? unimportant. he's got cock to drool over! "either way... you've gone and helped me, love. what do you say i do something for you?" the hand on his thigh ( still bloody ) creeping ever inwards states his position, but he leaves his words more open. "could be anything you want."

[ofconnell]

"I'm not a—you're so—" The protestations are aborted, his brow furrowed and looking as angrily bashful as one can be when half drained by a rake of a man that's as close as he dares. Will feels the towel soak, the cold chill of death a hair's breadth from his chest as he starts to remember the embrace of Nzoth in his homeland, even just for a second. The gods could be cruel, but not as cruel as that. Perhaps those gods are dead, and all Will has to do is to pray that the new ones would not let this world fall as his own. Perhaps a prayer could be given for Ezra. If the gods were kind enough, they would help him through his curse.

But that dull thought is extinguished by the presence of someone warmer, if not in heat, but in spirit. Ezra blazes on, correctly insinuating that Will would even be attracted to him after almost dying! The nerve of the man! The all but correct nerve of him! He wasn't coming onto him at all, if it sounded like that, he could blame Will's subconscious, and even then, it didn't know what it was doing! Really! "Gods save us all, Ezra, if you are." His calves are crossed, body quickening as he realizes where Ezra's hand is. "We don't need two of you now."

It creeps ever closer, and he all but swallows. "What if I asked that you just... sleep inside tonight?" Audacious of him, leaning in closer as he feels his heart stabilize against the pumping of blood. Gods know he doesn't have enough to where it wants to go. "I—well, if you were of a mind, I wouldn't say no to some company tonight. If you don't mind the really bad... everything."

[smitebound]

ezra licks his lips and tries not to look like a dog drooling over a steak. don't get too deep in. he can do that, right? nothing but a resounding silence awaits him in response. it's not exactly the surge of confidence he's hoping for, but restraint has never really been his thing, has it? no, of all his things patience, and decency, and self-control are not among them. what is? darkness. hunger. an icy wave of it so strong that he can't even listen to what will is saying anymore—it overtakes him. pain over takes him. it all fades into the background, the house, the towel, even will himself, and he's moving now, outside his own will, and his mouth starts to open and he starts to lean forward and all he can hear is that glorious heart pumping THUMP, THUMP, THUMP—no, wait, what was that he had just said? he's startled right out of his hungry stupor and straight into confusion. his heart gives a dusty, wheezing gasp. i trust you, ezra. what? why, he almost asks. why would you do something like that? his mouth shuts. opens again. shuts again. opens. "i'll be careful," he manages to croak out instead—but that's all he can manage before he finally, startlingly fast, latches onto will's neck. in that same moment, all thoughts of restraint go out the window. poof, gone like they had never been there to begin with. trust? what does that have to do with anything? who had ever said anything about trust? all he can think about is BLOOD. thick, hot, slippery blood singing against his tongue and oh, how he wants more of it in his mouth. so, so much more. his fangs sink deeper into will's neck, groaning as he's rewarded with another gush of red ambrosia. he doesn't want to stop. he isn't going to stop. he's never going to stop. bliss doesn't last. the more he takes, the more he heals, and the more the gears in his brain are able to start whirring in more than one direction at a time. it's not a quick realization—he swats at the nagging feeling like an insect on a summer evening, many more times than is worthwhile, before it finally stings him on the nose. oh. oh, right. this is supposed to be someone i like, isn't it? even that doesn't stop him immediately. come on, just a little more? a very convincing voice, sounding suspiciously like his own, begs from the recesses of his mind. and it's very, very hard to argue with it, but... no, no, he can't just—no. at long last, somewhere between a little too much and a lot too much, ezra manages to tear himself away from will's throat. "oh, bloody hell—oh, shit. fuck," he spits, lunging forward again—this time to clap the towel over the still-oozing wound on his neck. there... all better, right? "i'm sorry. really. it just—erm, for a second there, it was just—" he's grasping for an excuse, something he can say that doesn't make him sound like a blood-sucking monster. unfortunately, he is a blood-sucking monster. a new one, at that. he doesn't know how to wrap this up nicely. "difficult," he finishes, voice faltering at the end. and after a pause, "...are you alright?"

[ofconnell]

The last thing he remembers is I'll be careful before something simply happens, mouth against neck, clamped down like a vice against him, his head woozy from the immediate loss of blood. It feels like nothing he's ever felt before—indescribable for a moment before he realizes what's happened, is happening. Ezra was hurt. Ezra was hungry. Ezra eats. It takes a little before his faculties come back to him, from the surprise of it all as he feels the man grip him tightly.

To be held like this is simply not expected, while he was certainly sturdy, he felt like the weakest twig during a wildfire, able to be snapped in half by a light breeze as he keeps going, drinking deep from a well that he can't exactly restore that easily. Will hasn't expected this feeling in his body, the warmth of his blood drain as he sits and grabs onto Ezra, driftwood bodies along the riptide of hunger. He has to push him away, right? He has to.

Will pauses, whimpering weakly as he feels something stir within him. If he could blush he would. He simply crosses his legs instead, and tries to get a word out, but with the blood pouring out of him, he figures that anything said can wait. Maybe he could withstand it. Maybe. And in the end, Ezra unlatches roughly, the spurts of blood from his neck a testament as to how quick and how... forceful it was.

"I—what? Oh. I'm good. I'm very—" His hand weakly put over Ezra's. Will feels cold, as if the earth itself roiled against him for doing this. "Uh, I'll be better in a while I think. That was..." A loss for words. Will himself at a loss for words. He feels like there are adjectives for this. He was teacher for the gods' sake—he should be able to describe this without embarrassing himself. Good! Fun! Certainly not going to be in his dreams for a while! "Intense. You really have a mouth on you, huh, Ezra?"

[woodstangled]

is this really all it takes? half of an idea that someone might have been flirting, maybe, and the offer to take a load off—err, some weight off his shoulders and he's giggling and twirling his hair like a lovesick dryad? yeah, maybe. but outwardly that's embarrassing, so he tries to keep from looking too endeared with the idea of just... sitting down and eating with someone else. "you don't have to do that. i wouldn't want to take any food off your table... but if you've got the extra, i mean..." can he just get his words straight? is that really so hard? "i would be dumb to say no, wouldn't i?"

[ofconnell]

"It wouldn't be dumb, but I'd pout like a kicked puppy." And he certainly would! Shiny eyes and everything. The streets turn winding and treacherous, and he finds himself always putting a hand on Danny, just in case they get separated. "You don't mind, do you? My hands?" He suddenly feels embarrassed, putting his hands on a stranger he barely even met—he should have asked, but now it's too late to do anything about it. "Sorry. Old habits. But—well, I'd love to have you come. To the house or honestly, even one of those shops that they let us in some days. Come anywhere, really," he replies, excited in thinking about the new friend he's certain to have made. "I'd have you anywhere!"