TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
North didn't often take trips to the Military's various medical facilities — why would he? It wasn't like he was able to get sick anymore, and any injuries he sustained on the job were quickly healed by his Infected blood. Besides, there was something unnerving about how... Human it was, to visit such a place. While deep down North knew there was still some part of him that was crying for his humanity, the man had long since pushed past such feelings of guilt and remorse. He was proud of what he was now, an apex predator that could easily claw his way to the top of any situation.
Both his demeanor and his rank in the Military meant there weren't many that dared to cross him, and he was perfectly happy with his status as an Infected — not that anyone knew about it, of course. Still, it was rather humbling to be in a medical facility that day, his blue eyes lazily watching the people wandering back and forth through the sterile white environment. He knew this facility in particular was also half a science lab that worked directly with Cypher, which made it all the more odd to be called to such a place.
Military officers had an annual check up requirement to make sure everyone was still in tiptop shape — code for making sure no one had been recently infected — but even so, there was something that teased the back of his mind. Something that found it weird to be called out, individually, for a check up. North quickly shakes the feeling of unease as he approaches the main lobby desk, deciding it's not worth worrying over.
“Hello there, Sarah,” the Major purrs out the woman's name as he greets her, immediately leaning across the desk to he can flash her a charming grin. “I'm here to see a Dr. Scofield,” he continues, testing out the man's name on his tongue for the first time. But this wasn't exactly his place of expertise; he could hardly be expected to remember the names of all the doctors working for the Military. He falls quiet as the woman reaches for the phone to page the doctor, but he sees the way she blushes under his intense scrutiny. Perfect.
“Although, maybe I'd like to see you once I'm done here,” he flirts with the secretary as soon as she's done on the phone.
Posted 06-12-2021, 11:57 AMThis post was last modified: 08-07-2021, 08:51 PM by Silhouette
He watched Soldier #524 through the camera screen, speckled with noise. There was no sound, as those ancient monitors and out-dated security system could barely afford to present a clear picture. And yet Micah could tell what the other was saying through action alone. The large man's eyes set on the receptionist Sarah. There was more than just shallow presentation in those eyes, the movement of his heavy-set eyebrows. The interaction was brimming with sexuality. Knowing what he knew about Soldier #524, such a finding was fascinating and Micah did not hesitate to scrawl a note for himself on his datapad.
Interaction with Sarah: Suggests copulation. Reason: unknown. Capable of reproduction?
It was then that his pager buzzed. Micah calmly responded that he'd be there, jotted down a few more notes, and presented himself to the reception area. He nodded at the man, indicating for the other to follow the doctor. Unlike the soldier, the man only presented stone cold professionalism on his face, as he led the other quietly through white corridors. Ignoring the other's attempts at conversation, or answering brusquely with few words. They skipped the patient rooms entirely, the ones North would have been checked in before, for favor of the doctor's office.
Without instruction or direction, Micah began to prod the other with the tip of his stylus. He jabbed the man's triceps, that intersection of muscle and tendon, a few preliminary tests to check the others physique. He ran the stylus across the man's shoulder blades, where it melded neck. Soldier #524 would have been a fascinating human specimen, but Micah knew that there was more to that rushing through his veins.
His lensed eyes trailed down his back, noticing how the curves and edges of his body created smooth indents against the fabric of his shirt, his pants. Jotted down some notes on his datapad. Then looked up, over the rim of his glasses, to the soldier's face. Micah stepped forward, meeting those striking eyes. They made eye contact, but in Micah's gaze, there was only observation, like he were studying an object rather than acknowledging the personage of the other.
"Soldier #524-" he paused, remembering that, when building a rapport, others liked to be referred to by their name. He pushed the arch of his glasses up his nose. "Er, Mr. Sigurd. I'm sure you have figured out by now this is not a routine check up?"
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
Whatever further interaction North had with the woman — sneakily helping himself to connect to her comms device so he could send her a message later — was abruptly shortened when a man suddenly appeared in the reception area. He encouraged North to follow him without a sound, and the Major quirked an eyebrow at Sarah, who merely nodded with a smile. So this was the doctor he was to see, was it? The white lab coat gave him away, but the Infected was more perturbed by the fact the man didn't seem to want to speak to him at all. While mostly quietly on their journey, the few questions that he did throw at the man were mostly dismissed. Peculiar.
North didn't go to the lab very often so it completely skipped over his mind that they headed deeper into the building, past all the normal examination rooms. Blue eyes take in the cluttered office that he was led to. Not ordered to sit, or even strip — that was North's favourite part of examinations of course — he instead started to get poked and prodded with a stylus. As though he were nothing more than an animal.
Warning bells ring in his ears as his blue gaze drops to take in the doctor moseying on around him, but for the moment he pushes such thoughts to the back of his mind. He does, however, feel a flicker of something just beneath the surface of his skin as he feels the hard stylus run between his shoulder blades. It threw the man off. Most doctors needed to get their hands on his body for a thorough inspection — again, a part of the examination the lustful beast thoroughly looked forward to — but instead it was almost as if the doctor was keeping a rather... Clinical distance between the two of them.
North's gaze sharpens, never leaving the other man's face.
Finally Micah stops whatever he had been inspecting, their eyes meeting for the first time since they had met earlier; did that even count as meeting each other? His eyebrows quirk for a couple seconds when he's suddenly called by his Military number, rather than his— there's his name. But his official rank title is left off. Interesting. But then he listens to the man speak, and finally it all seems to fall into place for the Infected.
Ah. So this meeting was about that, was it? He grins a wolfish smile.
“Indeed. I see my reputation proceeds me,” he muses in a thick, heavy tone, eyes dropping slightly to take the other man in. Even under the labcoat he could tell the man was much lankier than what North was used to — considering he normally slept with buff Military officers that trained every day — but hey, he found everyone attractive in their own way. The strangeness behavior of the other made sense now: he was just nervous, wasn't he?
“I didn't think I'd get called out personally for a booty call,” he laughs, hunger in his gaze now, “but, I'm game. Although, I would much prefer you to use your hands to touch me.” There's a lascivious purr in his words as he reaches out with a finger to rest underneath Micah's chin and tilt the man's face up, keeping their gaze trained to one another.
There was something dangerous in the soldier's eyes that made even Micah uneasy. Something predatory. Micah was very aware of his own mortality, and his pursuit in science was for the ultimate goal of figuring out how to increase human longevity. He wondered if, perhaps, he had overstepped. That the words poised at the tip of his tongue, suggestively threatening, were better left unsaid and Micah should murmur a quick "nevermind that" and point Mr. Sigurd towards the door.
He felt that unease heighten when the creature reached out and tilted his chin back. The scholarly intake in Micah's eyes were gone, replaced with a lens of discomfort and apprehension when he caught the soldier's blue eyes. North's eyes. Was he tilting his chin back to get better access to the doctor's neck, so that he may end his life then and there?
Then, realization dawned on him. It was the same expression North had when speaking to Sarah, the same cardinal gaze that set upon her face, her lips, her curves that filled out her receptionist's skirt. A "booty call" as North put it. Booty, the colloquial term for the human gluteus. A term he had only heard in passing and deduced from informal interaction between his colleagues.
Micah was not sure what he was feeling in this position. He rarely felt, so this sensation that arrested his brain, stalled his ever-persistent train of thoughts, was foreign. Frightening.
His expression grew crossed, brows furrowing in slight irritation as he used the tip of his stylus to swat Mr. Sigurd's finger away, as if to poignantly rebel against North's suggestion of using his "hands". "No, Mr. Sigurd. That's not why."
The hinted annoyance faded to that ever present scientific curiosity. Interesting, how the creature showed sexual interest in both men and women. Perhaps it was not out of a desire to reproduce. Was it for amusement, then? He would have to amend his notes.
Micah then moved and settled behind his desk. With a finger, he slid a physical file before him, a couple of papers sitting in an open manila folder. It was a rare object in the office of a scientist who mostly did recorded and analyzed their work on virtual databases. "Major, I- we detected an indiscrepancy in your tests. Namely, your protein makeup does not reflect that of a typical human. In fact, yours suggests a closer relationship to what the Military calls 'Infected'."
"Yet, the virus does not affect the human at this deep of a level until the later stages of infection, past cognitive consciousness." The scientist leaned forward, hands steepled at his chin. "Are you aware of this, Mr. Sigurd?" Tag : North Sigurd
Posted 06-21-2021, 12:00 PMThis post was last modified: 06-21-2021, 12:01 PM by Micah Scofield
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A Hmph. There's disappointment — and mild confusion — when his finger is so hastily pushed away from the man's chin, and North makes a show of mock pouting at the rejection. Of course, the Major wasn't exactly subtle about the fact he liked getting what he wanted, but before he can make another move on the doctor — that is what he had been called here for, right? — Micah is on the move and positioning himself strategically behind his desk so that there was some form of barrier between the two men.
Of course North could have taken the inviting chair that was set up in front of the man's desk, but the Infected decides to push the barrier once again as he instead perches on the edge of Micah's desk, hands across his lap and predatory eyes trained down at the man sitting in front of him. His gaze shifts only when a file is pushed towards him, and North's expression twists into one of disdain. Ugh, he wasn't called here for paperwork, was he?
How boring. How human.
He glances over the file in front of him, but it's mostly medical terms and diagrams that he has no interest in. His attention is grabbed by the doctor, however, once the man begins to speak and... North doesn't like what he's hearing. His 'protein makeup' was closer to that of being an Infected? North raises his brow in surprise, a tilt of his head as a smooth grin spreads across his face — all to hide the unwelcome emotions beginning to brew beneath the surface. North knew that as of right now, there was no way for the Military to accurately pinpoint whether or not a person mutation had been triggered to that of a Level V. If they did, he would have been easily caught long ago, considering how many times he's been tested coming back into Stronghold.
But it didn't mean things would stay that way. He had 'awoken' roughly a decade ago now, and it wouldn't be surprising if even a Level V's virus was continuing to mutate in that time frame.
He doesn't take the bait. Not yet, at least. Hell, he'd been accused not long ago of being a creature of the night by none other than Jessie, and he had been quick to shut that down. What was the difference in doing that with Micah? He watches as the doctor leans forward, gaze trained on him — a question, that finally offers the Major a chance to speak. He keeps the grin on his face, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest.
“I do believe I'm not the doctor here... So no, I was not aware of such things,” he purrs, turning on the charm now as he too leans forward, a hand placed atop Micah's desk for balance. “But please, go on. I'm curious as to what exactly you're suggesting to me?” There's a certain sharpness — a bite, as it were — to his words now. “I am, after all, nothing more than a humble Military officer. Medical terms have a tendency to just go over my head, you see?” He grins — but there is no warmth to his smile.
The soldier did not take the seat in front of him, as Micah calculated. No, the other took one look at the conventional place before the doctor's desk, before slipping past it and settling onto the edge of Micah's table. Not just in blatant rejection of Micah's implicit request but a way to beget a position of physical authority, dominance, over Micah, who once believed an education would save him from the dangers of life. Ocean eyes glaring over the doctor not unlike a predator's, and once more, Micah felt prickles of discomfort beneath his skin.
But he would dare not show it. He met those carnivorous, calculating eyes with neutral and measured observation. Like he were unperturbed, dealing with an everyday patient back when he was limited to doing the routine, annual checkups for the Military. A type of severity that did not entertain the dryness in North's words.
"What I am suggesting, Mr. Sigurd, is that I do not believe you are a normal human. Not entirely so." Micah pulled back the file with a fingertip, seeing and predicting that the statistical graphs and medical jargon would escape the other. The other's smile disturbed the doctor but, to Micah's better judgement, he continued as he sensed the light of discovery. "I am not saying you have been afflicted with DraC-2. The virus would have shown up in your bloodwork. Nonetheless, I am very interested in how one so otherwise normal would exhibit such unique amino acid structure. It is not like one or two cells have gone haywire. It is your entire system, working together, in sequences unprecedented in former literature, that intrigues me. I would know. I have written said former literature."
Micah closed the file and tapped the edge of it against his lap to ensure the physical files were neatly aligned inside. He pushed it aside and turned back to North, hazel eyes glimmering through his glasses lens. "I see this does not interest you so much as it interests me. So, this is what I propose." In an act that surprised even Micah, the doctor reached forward and rested an open hand on North's, the one the other used to support himself against Micah's desk, retroactively fulfilling the other's request to "use his hands". In his eyes glinted something human, the most human thing that had since occurred in both their gazes. "You provide me DNA samples when I request them and I run tests on them. The Military will not know about this, nor any of my colleagues. In return, I will protect you from other scientists with a insatiable curiosity on DraC-2 variants, and a vested loyalty in the Military and Cypher." Tag : North Sigurd
Posted 06-26-2021, 06:34 PMThis post was last modified: 06-26-2021, 06:35 PM by Micah Scofield
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
There's something about this entire situation that sets off ringing alarm bells in North's mind, but he's never really been in a position — since his transformation, of course — where he didn't feel in control of the situation. He was an apex predator, someone that could easily control any situation he got himself in. But this? This felt very wrong, and much as a part of him warned him that he best not stay, he couldn't help but remain perched on the man's desk, listening to him. Even though the grin he sported wasn't friendly by any means, it still begins to fade the more Micah talked.
"I am not saying you have been afflicted with DraC-2." Well, looks like he wasn't entirely screwed. Still, he wasn't stupid enough to believe that the doctor was entirely convinced he wasn't Infected, especially with how he phrased the notion that North's entire body didn't line up with what was deemed 'normal' for humans. Medical tests were always a point of worry for the Level V; while tests had not yet managed to catch up to a point of accurately testing for a Level V virus mutation, it was only a matter of time.
North didn't care to be there when tests did catch up.
His ice cold eyes subconsciously follow the movement of the file being rearranged perfectly before his gaze returns back to Micah's face, the previously shit-eating grin now gone completely from his features. It doesn't get much better when the doctor suddenly decides to announce he has a proposal for North — the Major can only imagine what that would be. But he's knocked from whatever paranoia had previously gripped him when the human suddenly slides one of his hands across the desk to rest atop North's, and it took the man only 0.2 seconds before the grin was back again, allowing himself to think the physical action was more suggestive than it probably was. But honestly, could you blame him?
“So let me get this straight, doc,” he purrs in a low tone, using his other hand to suddenly reach forward and gently touch the top of Micah's extended hand, a feather-light touch with his pointer finger as he outlined the bumps of the man's knuckles. “You called me, a Major in the Military, here today to tell me that I'm not quite human, but not quite Infected either. Then, without knowing exactly what I am, your first course of action is to try blackmailing me?” He grins — it's too wide to be friendly.
He hides the inkling of fear he feels at being outed to the Military.
“See, the problem is that if things were to come down to your word against mine, what makes you think they would take yours?” He questions the man with a tilt of his head — momentarily ignoring the fact that all Micah would need to do was get confirmation from other Cypher doctors. “If you want me to be a little guinea pig in your experiments, I'm afraid you're going to have to sweeten the deal somehow...” With a dark gaze and an obvious once-over, it's clear what he's hinting at. North wasn't known for subtlety.
Of course. It made sense, what North asked of him. The other's actions were, so far, not hard to read, as Micah thought back to the Major's interactions with Sarah, and earlier's "misunderstanding". The doctor made a mental note of that, that there was something predictably primal about North's behaviors. But this was based off of two very brief observations and only made Micah all the more determined to reach an accord with the other. Even if he had to, as North put it, "blackmail" it out.
Micah's eyes drifted down, watched wordlessly as the Major traced lines on his thin hands. The sensation was not pleasant, though it was also not entirely unwelcome either. In fact, the touch caused a wave of something to cascade down his spine, though exactly what that something was escaped Micah. The doctor easily swallowed that feeling, sharp mind directed back to what was turning about to be a lengthy and painful negotiation (any prolonged contact with another person eventually became torturous to the doctor).
"'Blackmail' is rather brusque. I consider this more a mutually-beneficial arrangement between us." The statement did not come out as silkily as North put his words. It was matter-of-fact, blunt, an assertion Micah honestly believed.
The doctor meant to lean back, shoulder off the enclosed space between them that felt increasingly constricting. Yet North's grasp was rather incessant, even if not forceful, and Micah found himself instead shifting forward, meeting Major Sigurd's strong gaze with his own dispassionate glare, visibly unmoved despite North towering over him. Their hands still touched.
"You're right. 'They' won't take my word," His eyes flashed back to indicate the manila file. "It's the data they'll listen to. You exist on Cypher's database, Major Sigurd, ingrained, immortal and decentralized. 'They' have your protein samples already. And 'they' know something is amiss among our subjects, thanks to my report. They just have not connected it to you."
A "smile" flickered on Micah's lips, if one could call it that. "Not yet, anyway. You see, I'm not more brilliant than the others. I'm just quicker with my conclusions.
"Though, I assume you are a hard man to convince." It was cool calculation and not unchecked desire that had Micah's finger sweep forward to graze the hard line of North's structured cheekbone. He said, with a slightly softer edge in his voice, "If possible, I would like my subjects- well, participants, willing to the see benefit of great scientific discovery. So what is it you would like 'sweetened'?" Tag : North Sigurd
Posted 07-12-2021, 09:18 PMThis post was last modified: 07-13-2021, 09:03 AM by Micah Scofield
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
Mutually beneficial for them both? He highly doubted that. It wasn't often that North ever encountered a situation that was beneficial for both parties involved — or, at the very least, not in an even kind of way. Generally speaking there was always one party that benefited more than the other, and in this case, the Major had a feeling that person would be the doctor. This entire situation was uncomfortable, and for only a brief moment, North lets his displeasure be shown as he curls his upper lip in irritation — but quickly flattens it back out again into a smooth, criminal grin.
Best not give himself away this early. Besides, he's drawn back to reality once more as Micah continues to speak, making it very clear that the information he possessed was only one quick confirmation away from exposing North's secret to the entire Military — and he loathed it.
Blue eyes flash angrily and for just a split second, the Infected imagines nothing more pleasurable than to reach forward and rip Micah's throat out. He could do it too, it would be so easy. But the mess wouldn't be easy to contain, and with a paper trail leading to him being the last one to see the doctor alive... Well, chances are he'd be just as likely to be exposed that was, as he was letting the man live instead. Hatred. The roiling, seething anger flickers beneath his surface, just daring to come forth to the surface and let him take his anger out on the human in front of him. Yet somehow, he manages to contain himself.
Just long enough for a lone finger caressing his cheek bone to draw him back down to Earth again, eyes trained now to Micah's face.
The man is smiling, gloating — but North won't let him have the last laugh, and he plasters a grin on his own face to match the one thrown at him. Micah makes the mistake of touching him, and the man's weight transfers to his hand resting against the manicured surface of the desk as his other one snatches Micah's wrist, to hold it in place — to remind the doctor, however subtly, that the one with the real power between them was him.
“Seems like I have no choice but to accept. Don't get me wrong, doc, I can be a veeeery agreeable person — so long as I get what I want,” he murmurs, drawing forward to bring his mouth ever closer to Micah's wrist. “I'm not as difficult to convince to partake in this little arrangement as you may think. However... I'm going to want a lot more from you than just a few little touches here or there,” he purrs, his voice thickening in lust as it drops a couple octaves. North knew nothing about Micah — hell, for all he knew, the man could be straight or asexual — but all North knew, was what he wanted. He draws his mouth towards Micah's wrist and opens it, pressing teeth ever so gently against pale flesh — almost as if threatening to expose himself right then and there as an Infected.
But he doesn't.
He merely smirks, and then places a chaste kiss against the man's wrist.
“I'll give you my body in exchange for yours. That sounds fair, doesn't it?” He grins, almost as if daring Micah to refuse his oh so generous offer.
Ewntined in such a close space, trapped by a wall of a body and so close to a face that look as if it belonged to a theatre star, one should have felt something. A rising fluster to their face, a telling tighten of their groin. But Micah felt... nothing. Just cool composure, the only lilt in his heartbeat the subtle panic one has when so close to a predator, his hand stapled to the desk.
Micah was not unexperienced, not in what North so lasciviously asked for. He was not, well, good, but he had experimented. With men, women, mostly in his youth, at those coworker gatherings he so loathed now (what? scientists have needs too!). He tried desperately to feel something, as he recalled reading the brain waves and hormone produced by mice in heat and in the act of copulation. But... nothing. He reacted, sure, but it was purely physical and the flicker of attraction was dim as Micah maneuvered with his partners.
There was one benefit to sex that he had learned. Bribery. He recalled his first and only experience with it, as he needed some data slides that were "restricted" access, back when he was young and sitting at the bottom of the hierarchy. His boss was corrupt, a lustful man not unlike the one pining Micah against a desk now. Micah had only been nineteen, and yet was able to maneuver the man around his finger. They were caught before Micah received the data, but the silver lining was that he was not indicted, not like the other.
Back in the moment, that need flared again. This was for data, the oath that all scientists secretly swore in their loyalty to the truth. The feathery kiss at his wrist sent a small shiver throughout his body, but again need was absent, if only for those basic physical and instinctive reactions.
Micah slowly slid his glasses off and settled them beside him, his gaze never leaving North's. The man was never good at faking emotion, but when something so important was at stake, he could summon an artificial ardor in them through half lidded eyes.
He leaned in, allowing the stringent push against his body, craned his neck as his lips grazed the shell of North's ear. "Give me the samples, and you can have whatever you want." Tag : North Sigurd
Posted 07-16-2021, 06:44 PMThis post was last modified: 07-16-2021, 06:46 PM by Micah Scofield
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
He doesn't know what's currently going on in Micah's head, but the lascivious look that the man throws back at him is enough of an invitation for North to consider this pursuit of his locked and loaded. He grins at the thought — not like it was ever much of a challenge for him to begin with. Still, it surprises him when the scientist suddenly takes off his glasses and leans forward enough that his breath tickles North's ear. A carnal tease from the man that was so professional about everything just minutes before. North slides his tongue across his lower lip momentarily as he grins: checkmate. Felt like he was the one that would get the most delicious prize out of this deal.
But there's still a threat that lingers between them.
Not of blackmail; not anymore, at least. But this close to the other man now, he can hear the thumping of his heart, the rushing of blood through his jugular vein. He's so close that North can smell the soap he'd used that morning, and it pairs perfectly with the distinct scent that was simply Micah. It wouldn't take much effort to simply turn his head and sink his teeth into the man's exposed neck, and as such thoughts flash through his mind, North recoils as he feels his fangs threaten to slip from his gums.
The Major releases Micah's wrist as he pulls away from the man rather abruptly, but a smooth, criminal grin doesn't misplace itself as he hides whatever it was that had forced him back in the first place. He keeps his cool in front of the other man, much as he can at least.
“We have a deal. I look forward to you upholding your end of the bargain,” he purrs in a deadly, carnal tone, a wink offered to the man as North makes it very clear he was expecting the doctor not to back out from their deal. “But in the meantime... What kind of samples do you need from me?” A dirty joke lingers on his tongue but the man is smart enough to reign it in, for now. His blue eyes drop for a moment as he once more takes in the delicate feature of the other man's neck, but he's quick to return his gaze back to Micah's once more. Best not give himself away when the doctor was already suspicious.
His white lab coat hung, crisp and impossibly clean, over slender shoulders. It added weight to his otherwise thin frame. And it was the only thing between North and full access to his neck. It came in a feeling, a prickle of nerves, sensation of prey, as North's subtle rolls of his tongue and shifts of his eyes did not go unnoticed by the quietly observant Micah.
The feeling was unusual, never felt before, and as interesting to Micah as it was terrifying. He recalled a particular experiment, in which he observed the behavior of prey animals, mice, under a shadow made to look like that of a natural predator, a bird of prey. He wondered if this is how they had felt, pupils blown with fear and heart beats drumming so rapidly Micah was surprised their respiratory systems had not failed then and there.
The calm on Micah's face did not betray the uncertainty as he navigated through these new emotions. He wanted to turn his face, dismiss North and be left in solitude to ponder and brood over his observations in the other, and in himself. But something told the doctor it would also be dangerous to turn his back on North, so the doctor held a steady gaze on his newest "patient". The hint of seduction in Micah's dark eyes had fled, returning to stony, detached apathy. He slid his glasses back up his nose, slightly grateful as lines and figures turned crisp.
"The usual. DNA and rNA samples, present in blood, hair, sweat, semen." The shadow of a question perked his left brow, arched over those pedestrian black-framed glasses. "Are you capable of producing any of that? Can you bleed, cry, sweat or ejaculate?"
Somehow Micah's datapad ended up in his hands, lithe fingers poised over the screen, ready to rapidly tap down the expected answers, eyes directed at North in scientific fascination and focus.
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
Once more North notices the "clinical" look that the doctor takes on, and it once more makes it very hard for the Infected to get a proper read on the man. Not that it really mattered to him, he at least knew who was in control of the situation. Or so he liked to believe — the previous threat of blackmail still sat uncomfortably in the back of his head, reminding him of the sliver of fear he had felt a few minutes earlier. He really shouldn't underestimate the doctor, much as his predator ego told him otherwise.
Removing himself from the man's desk for the first time, North takes a step back and plops himself down in one of the chairs in front of the man's desk, making himself comfortable as he listened to what Micah had to say to him. He can't even hide the cheeky grin that spreads across his lips at the man's request for DNA, his own mind of course immediately slipping to much more carnal thoughts. Bleed, cry, sweat — all those requests are pushed horribly to the side as North chooses instead to focus on the one that would be the most entertaining for him. He's sure Micah would agree.
“Stop teasing me, doc, or you're going to make me think you want to skip straight to taking care of your end of the deal,” North rumbles in a deep tone, thick with desire as his expression takes on a darker and more focused appearance. “I can produce all of that, but I think you'll find your best sample right here...” He's not even shy in what he does next.
Legs spread as he leans back in the chair, a lone hand dragging itself down his chest and belly before it teases the top of his Military-issued pants, lithe fingers playing with the buckle of his belt as he keeps his gaze trained to Micah's face, not missing any expression that the doctor might have at the suggestive gesture. A small huff of laughter leaves North's mouth before he drags his tongue suggestively along his bottom lip.
“I'm ready if you are,” North finishes, dragging his fingers seductively over the bulge slightly visible in his pants. It was like he was one of those dancers at a strip club that he often visited, doing his best to seduce Micah from across the desk. Lure the man closer so he could get his... Sample.
One would think this uncharted for the doctor and, in a way, it was. With flat hazel eyes, he followed North's path, from in front of the desk to behind it. Seated himself, ironically as his patients did, in the cushioned seats before the doctor. His brow arched in a simple response, as North let his knees fall apart, hand slipping down to coyly plant itself on the bulge that formed in the front of his pants. A well above-average sized bulge, Micah noted.
That was that hint of a similar simper on Micah's lips, if only because he was unwittingly reflecting North's, if only because the colonel was playing to that painfully predictable path he mapped out of himself. It was emotion to the barebones, primal instinct that Micah may not have felt, but read about, observed, studied in that withdrawn manner until the delusion of empathizing manifested itself. One that played textbook on North's face, in all but the eyes. Such cutting, dangerous eyes, that discerned in a way more akin to a cat than a person.
Again, the tablet seemingly fell from his attention. He placed it gently on the desk and approached North, slow and cautious as a fish deciding whether to take the bait. North was close again- he could feel the heat coming off him, detect the cologne that clung on his patient, woody and potent and far unlike the sterility that Micah was used to being around. For protein patterns that reflected more of an Infected, North was convincingly alive.
He propped one knee on the space between North's legs, just brushing the sizable mound that was so ostentatiously showcased. North was a tall man, but seated, so that for the first time Micah could look down on him. Even then, the doctor admitted to feeling vulnerable, conscious of the way his throat was now exposed to North.
The doctor leaned forward, one hand placing itself on North's torso, ghosting the path of his hand previous. Feeling that strong heart beat beneath, the steady way his chest and stomach rose and fall with each, hot breath. Hazel eyes captured blue, and Micah's lips parted ever so slightly as he could see the subtle shifts in color of North's iris.
And so he could insert the tip of a scalpel into the stubbled skin of North's cheek It was a small nick, one that appeared smaller and hurt less than razor cut, but it was enough where a small bead of blood trickled out and where Micah could state, "You're right. Thank you for the sample, Major."
TAGMicah Scofield NOTES N/A
A coy look on the doctor's face — a mask, even if North didn't know it — brought about a larger smile on the Infected's face. He encouraged the man to come closer with just his eyes, a piercing blue gaze that remained trained to Micah like a predator would look upon its prey. His attention diverted only momentarily when the tablet in the man's hands was placed on the desk — forgotten — and North was instead enveloped by the warm, yet clinical, hazel stare of the doctor. Eyes narrow ever so slightly as Micah stands from his chair and approaches him, once more bringing them close together, only this time it was the doctor that had the 'upper hand' over the situation.
North didn't mind. In some ways it was thrilling.
A knee is placed between his spread legs, teasingly close to where he had been directing the doctor's attention moments ago. His hand had long since been placed back on his lap, and though the taunting space between them was igniting the fire in his gut, North was patient enough to sit still. For now. He's rewarded for his patience when Micah suddenly leans forward, closing the gap between them as a lone hand works its way down North's abdomen. There's only a slight hitch in North's breathing as he's touched in a much more intimate way by the man now, fingers ghosting over the path his own had taken in a seduction attempt.
The man's heartbeat fills North's ears once more as the delectable tang of human blood is tantalizingly close once more. North's own lips part as a response to Micah's, and his gaze drops momentarily to stare at the doctor's lips before they return to the man's gaze once more. A heedy stare—
Shhk. A small blade inserted into his flesh, just enough to tear it and cause blood to dribble from the small slash. North reacts instinctively with a hiss, jerking his head backwards with anger that the man had surprised him like that. There's an almost wounded look on his face when Micah speaks, so clinical, so apathetic in the way that he tricked the man. There's a moment of confusion as the Major realizes what just happened.
It's swiftly replaced by anger.
They're so close to one another that he barely has to move as he suddenly pushes himself upwards from his lazy, sprawled position. A hand reaches forwards, behind Micah's head, and fingers entangle themselves in the man's hair and pull — hard — enough to yank his head back and expose his throat, but not enough that he wouldn't be able to see the cool rage that had made its way onto North's face. The grin that remains, that shows off all his teeth like some sort of vicious snarl, is a cold irony to the sharpness of his gaze.
“Don't take me for a fool, doc,” Norths growls out, a steeliness to his voice that replaces his earlier flirty, playfulness. “You and I both know that's not the kind of sample I was offering.” He leans forward, teeth just centimeters away from Micah's throat as he whispers in the man's ear: “Remember when I asked you to use your hands to touch me? That's the only way you're going to get a sample from me.”
Maybe he's pushing the boundaries of a man that had just threatened to expose him to all of Cypher mere minutes ago. But when you corner a beast and toy with it, it's only so long until it snaps. North's free hand expertly flicks the scalpel out of Micah's hand so that it clatters to the ground, before he wraps his fingers around said hand and coyly, suggestively, draws it down towards the bulge in his pants. Just enough so that the man's fingers can trace and feel what North was demanding him to get his sample from.
Revealing the Monster Within
Posted 06-12-2021, 11:57 AM
This post was last modified: 08-07-2021, 08:51 PM by Silhouette
