@thirdpartyblood
he’s been there for hours, having barely lifted his head, reading a book he’s read cover to cover more than enough times already— NEEDFUL THINGS , because the idea of an entire town driven to insanity over greed, until it was nothing but blood-bathed streets is sort of comforting to him. silas isn’t really reading the novel though, more so just letting his gaze soak in the pages he’s read so many times before while he DAYDREAMS about death. it’s been on his mind a lot lately, not that it hasn’t always been a sort of constant, but more so lately, like the hum has grown louder and he can’t ignore it so much anymore. after all, being here isn’t entirely without motive. he’d noticed him a few weeks ago, and he supposes the city is full of easier PREY, but he wants him, more than in the way he normally wants people. as something quick and easy, to take the edge off. he just thinks he has the prettiest throat he’s ever seen. he wonders how it would feel letting his teeth graze the skin there. he thinks about how it would look with his hand wrapped around it or a knife pressed against it. he spends a lot of time just thinking about his throat. he hasn’t REALLY spoken to him yet, outside of getting him to check out his books for him or greeting him in passing, but he considers those small ways to insert himself into his life, making his presence known enough to become someone he recognizes when he comes into work, someone he might even look for. a regular.
he’s wondered for a long time if he’d always be able to sedate this side of himself, but he realized more clearly recently that it’s always felt like more of a question of how long. he feels like an addict who’s been sober for years, still craving the feeling. he has a TASTE for blood that he hasn’t ever been able to rid from his mouth. he’s not even sure this is what he really wants, if he could really do it ( again ), or if it’s just some kind of fucked up fantasy, something that was born at some strange intersection of his thoughts involving death and sex. he’s decided not to ignore the urges anymore, or maybe he’s just so blind with obsession now that it feels like nothing else matters, much like the moments leading up to a climax.
whatever the reason, today he’s going to talk to him properly, because he wants to do more than keep watching him live his quiet little life. he’s PERFECT. he needs him. silas lifts his head and tilts it to the sides, stretching out a now significantly sore neck. he glances towards the desk to see if he’s there— and he is, thankfully, because he didn’t want to wait any longer at this point. he’s alone too, which is equally as important, but he didn’t really have any concerns about that. it’s a library.
he smiles at him as he approaches the desk, a warm, disarming sort of smile, placing the book on the desk, pushing it out towards him. it’s routine now, probably for the both of them. ❛ so, i’ve been wanting to ask, is dominic your REAL name ? ❜ it is, he looked him up weeks ago, browsed around on whatever social media he could find, ❛ or do you wear a fake name tag so that the strange library patrons won’t know your real name ? ❜ he leans against the counter a little bit, trying to exhibit relaxed body language, ❛ i heard people do that sometimes. ❜