saturday morning

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Hunger strikes him early that morning. The last few times he's been on a hunt, the benefit of the kill didn't reach him but instead earned him money for his part in capturing the person for sale. Sale for what, he didn't know and he didn't ask. Organs, meat, and the sex trade is what he dealt in although the meat trade seems to be much more forgiving. So long as the person doesn't seem to have any open sores or anything of that sort, they're fair game and he doesn't need to be that careful, just so long as he doesn't envenomate them which, really, is sometimes very difficult.

It's selfish of him not to sell off the victims he kills, but he does get good use of them. Like a cat keeping a bird alive for a time just for the amusement, his victim isn't quite dead yet, just laying on the ground nearby him, gurgling and trying to cling onto some form of life. He could kill them off and show them some mercy, but he tends to like when he can feel the struggling when he's feeding off them, and hearing them speak is also something he seems to enjoy. It's all new to him. Prior to his reawakening, he would simply feed or turn, and run away. Now, he tends to savor his kills.

It was raining, and this area is a good spot to find lone humans who may or may not be well armed. Luckily for him, this one wasn't apart from a knife, which she hadn't had a chance to use in her defense. He blends in well with this group of people, seeming like a displaced human himself most of the time. So he came at her with some degree of desperation just to get out of the rain, under the impression that being out in it put him at greater danger. In her kindness and naivety, she had shared her space with him. They had a short conversation, and when she moved to attempt to make a fire for them to share, he attacked. Nothing too gruesome, but he covered her mouth and held her down in such a way to protect himself from a defensive attack, and bit harshly into a few spots on her neck, making her bleed out quicker. The scent of it was incredibly comforting, too. So, he's been savoring it.

She's at the end of her life now, most of her blood having been drained out and him feeling more satiated than he's felt in some time, he's not really moved from his spot. It's a shelter of sorts, under what must have used to be a shop, back in the day. He's visible, but there isn't really anyone else around the area and given he can camoflauge himself he isn't too concerned about it. It's dark, rainy, and the scent of blood is really only strong to him still with his heightened senses.

It would make sense to move the body. Maybe get away from her, but there's still some juice left in her yet and he's simply waiting for his stomach to settle, so to speak. She tries to say something, to call out with what little strength she has left and he sighs, getting himself up. He picks her up too, easily holding up her mostly dead weight and lapping up whatever blood still remains on her neck, shushing her and going in for another bite. Really though, should a passerby see them it likely would look like a couple, not able to wait until they had some privacy.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 09:34 AM This post was last modified: 05-02-2021, 02:00 PM by Nils Viklund

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When he saw what he saw, there was no hesitation on his part.

There was only getting ready.

He got the comms out; he announced what he saw. His position was given out. However he had gotten to these parts when he wasn’t a drifter himself lay in a simple fact: a job. And if he was on a job, if a mission had drawn his feet out, the Stronghold would exist-- perched ever so firmly on its ol’ spot, unmoving, and eternal like the sun.

For now.

Even the sun, after all, had every chances of burning out. But Jessie didn’t include that in his description of his home; however tall, and pretty the Stronghold liked to be, pretending it would resist the pull of decay, and time, Jessie knew it to be ephemeral, and feeble after all. Much like human bones, there was a brittleness to every brick and every rock; even rocks-- despite their sturdiness, were known to give in the end, be it the wind that smashed them, or a raping, hard rhythm of a river rushing past.

He knew that, too.

But that wasn’t the point.

It was raining, and it was light. So-so. On this foul, and lame morning, the message he sent back to the central didn’t get through entirely-- much stood in the way of successful communication, much-- such as the fact alone that he had stalled.

And he should not stall.

And him stalling was a problem--

One dotted with a nice question, and whyever should you be here, Mr Michels, whyever did you dawdle when the job was done hours ago--

Why.

It didn’t matter.

Not now--

It would.

And yet Jessie had a plan-- right now.

His gun was out: the glock ready, the silencer screwed on, and the rhythm of the raindrops-- their constant, and singing beating helped him; distractions, really.

They distracted from the noise of his heart; the warmth of his bod-- from his very merry, and real being stood too close to the site of crime, and when he did what he did, one might assume he had committed a wrong.

A savage, and real wrong.

When Jessie fired, it was the woman, after all; she would have been dying, her eyes rolled back, he could see, her tongue lolled out, her panting weak, and soft--

He couldn’t see her.

He was just betting-- and he had fired: the bullet hit her square in her head and exited out the back, before embedding itself-- safely for now-- away from the vampire’s own fleshy, and feasting form; where the pavement was, there the bullet would hit, and end, promising several little factoids:

One, he could shoot.

Two-- the bullets were high velocity, built to pierce through flesh, and bone.

One might have said-- you’re next, at least that appeared to be the case.

And yet from the shop where Jessie existed, the very far back thereof where he had come out moments ago to see what he was seeing still, he didn’t fire, once more.

He should have.

All his knowledge on the fucking vampires told him he was fucking around with no weak-ass bloke.

But Jessie still didn’t shoot the fucker--

A gun in his hand, NVG’s round his neck, and himself equipped too fucking well and yet in no uniform to give out to whom he bowed to get a signature on his paycheck; there would be no telling-- just by looking at him-- who he was--

Only that his hair was floppy.

That his eyes were wider.

A sweet, and dangerous blue, easy to get lost in.

And there was him-- still pointing his gun at the fucker-cunt, a title that really had found itself plunged too deep in insults, as if calling someone a cock cunt twat did a better job than just picking out one.

Really, he was having fun.

He grinned.

“Hellooooo,” he greeted, a few seconds after he had killed the woman, “cunt. What’s up, chummy chums, cat got your tongue? A human stole your kill?”

He cackled at himself, because clearly, he was fucking hilarious.

Posted 05-02-2021, 10:04 AM

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For some time he seemed to be very much in a state of bliss. Her blood was sweet and the little movements she was still trying her hardest to make made it all the better. If he wasn't so focused on draining every ounce of blood from her neck he may have tried to hold onto her a little bit longer after the deed was done, like some sort of stuffed toy a child would carry around. Something he could bite into to tide him over until the next one came along. The rain coming down, the overall silence of the area, it was almost romantic. As close to romantic as he could fathom, anyway.

Had he not been so engrossed in his atrocities, he would've heard footsteps. Would've smelled him nearby, would've been alerted to his presence somehow if not somewhat diluted with the rainy environment. He still would have been able to act, and so when the bullet goes through the woman's head, effectively ending his fun, he's livid. His grip on the woman tightens for a moment, breaking or displacing some of her ribs with how viciously he's angrilly holding onto her before he pulls his fangs from her neck and lets her now very, very dead body fall to the ground with a harsh crack.

Immediately, his attention is focused on the guy, who's.. addressing him? Speaking to him.. more than just getting his attention. He's had military attention before, but not in this way. Some minor trouble here and there, when to them he's just another low class human. There's no passing it off this time though. He has blood on him, he was caught in the act. He can't lie his way out of it, the woman has bite marks all over her. He's very clearly a vampire.

The words themselves make him laugh though. He's stronger than the human, that's a fact. Only thing is, the human is much more equipped to take him out. He has the benefit of.. apparently a lot of weaponry, and while Nils is very capable in a one on one fight, frankly a lot of his survival has been based on luck. He could fight his way out, but he's no combat specialist.

His eyes, having gone a yellow-gold in his feeding revert back to a more calming blue as well, and it's in his nature to try to appear as non-threatening as possible. To bullshit his way out. Slowly, his fangs retract some as well, and he clears his throat, ridding himself of the last taste of the woman's blood, unfortunately.

"Got here a little late, buddy. Been snackin' on her for the last couple hours." All attempts at being entirely pleasant out the window, but his tone is, oddly, friendly enough. "That your new method of population control? Killing off your own, give us less to chew on?" Sort of testing the waters, too. He doesn't want to get shot. "..Or was that not intentional?" He's not dumb, and he's keeping his distance at least. He knows very well that the human could kill him, and he hasn't gone this long to be offed by enjoying himself too much.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 10:27 AM

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Jessie heard the crack--

He grimaced. He winced.

In sympathy, really.

It wasn’t one too honest.

And when the asshole dropped the woman--

Jessie should have had an off button. He should have.

“Oh, lala.”

He didn’t.

The mocking, teasing words came out of him as the cunt did not back off. He was being stared at-- evaluated, perhaps, and Jessie waited that out, not even daring to blink-- not even daring to make a sound; he knew his breathing did plenty of that; his heart, too, and its steady pump on the wrong side of his chest should similarly do the trick--

And Jessie narrowed his eyes--

His pretty, pretty--

Cold, cold eyes.

He narrowed them.

Stared on, his arm still stretched out as if he couldn’t tire, or like he had been holding people at a gunpoint his entire life, enough that even if he should keep his arm up like this for many more minutes to come, it ain’t hurt him.

It ain’t tire him out.

Focused, and staring---

And as the other’s eyes reverted to their own blue, too composed, too human, level V, he thought--

Patient zero, he thought too-- an unfortunately privy man to such titles.

A fucking full-on vampire, Jessie also thought, and he could not deny-- he shivered, somewhat.

Fear, after all, was a common reaction to staring down a god. And though he’d not call this cunt a god-- though he’d not really think out, the parallel stuck with him, and Jessie knew he was staring down danger.

It should not have excited him as it did.

He should not have thought--

Give me a reason--

--as if the woman lying there wasn’t one already--

Give me just one reason.

And Jessie’s smile turned crooked-- and too, too sharp.

Really.

Jessie chuckled.

“You’re not really good at this,” he tested grinning-- “are you?”

He scrunched up his nose in a tease.

He knew all the exits. He knew what stairwells led where, how to get from point A, to point B.

He knew everything.

And he did not approach. But he did walk.

He paced-- not averting his gaze-- coolly to the side, making little noise; but he would make noise. He would spread it.

He knew--

His smile turned a bit more crooked.

“How’s that heartbeat of mine, love,” he teased, his tone dark, and drawling.

His teeth flashed. So human.

“You finally aware of it?” he asked-- a mocking cunt. A little giggle slipped out.

“Tell me,” he dared, his tone too even-- his slow, and calm pacing very, very much premeditated.

Very.

"Is it scared--

"Or is it calm."

Within his chest-- and on the right side due to his situs inversus, it beat, and it beat--

C O L L E C T E D

Posted 05-02-2021, 11:12 AM

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The feeling of having his life threatened was not the type of adrenaline rush he enjoyed. While he can't quite experience the same feelings he may have had in this state as a human, he does seem somewhat wary, anyway. His eyes occasionally looking over the various weaponry the man has. Just to be sure of what he's dealing with.

For whatever reason, the guy sure does like to talk and he hasn't experienced this, yet. He wonders if any humans tested him when he was still just a Reaper. It's not something that rings familiar, and as it's a novel experience, he finds it.. amusing. Oddly enough, not really that threatening either. If the guy was going to kill him, he probably would have already. Unless he's aching for a fight.

Sighing quietly, he relaxes his stance and laughs a bit himself, going to wipe his mouth and chin of any blood that may have lingered there. There's still some, dried onto bits of stubble that he'll have to wash off later but the rain helps with that, and for the most part he's all tidied up.

"You just caught me at a bad time. I was really enjoying her, let my guard down." He doesn't seem to have a problem admitting his fault, here. He's a survivor, sure. But he's not perfect. In fact he's incredibly clumsy at times, but for whatever reason he manages himself quite well.

At the question, he laughs again. His fans are not entirely retracted and that's a conscious choice. He's a fucking vampire, and he's been caught in the act of feeding. It's more comfortable for him this way, and clearly this man has some fascination with it. His eyes narrow as well, and he does begin to take a few steps forward, appearing unthreatened.

"All that shit you've got, why don't you tell me something I don't know about myself, hmm?" As if to get him to use his equipment to show off just how well he can hide his presence. He's getting closer now, and smiles a big, toothy smile.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 11:36 AM

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Jessie chuckled.

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, lover,” he teased once more, his brows giving a delighted lil waggle--

And the man laughed with him-- and laughed once more, appearing amused with his grin so bold, the fangs out somewhat, drawing Jessie’s eyes just for a moment--

Huh.

But that didn’t frighten him.

In fact, the more profound that smile was, the more apparent-- the more interested Jessie was, correctly pegging this asshole here as utterly confident-- over-confident--

Cocky.

Arrogant.

And ain’t that a mistake.

Jessie smirked.

“Okay.”

And then, he shot the cunt.

He didn’t hesitate-- he didn’t have to. He didn’t care to; the idiot’s glaring, and bold and blaring-- wicked smile danced in Jessie’s mind, attractive, and wrong.

And he found himself taking a step forward, too.

Just one.

He had shot the man in his shoulder-- and just in his shoulder-- the right one, as if that mattered.

And as the gun shifted, and the gunshot ain’t even echo due to the silencer, he aimed at the man’s other shoulder, and then answered this apparent conundrum with which he had been presented:

Tell me something I don’t know about myself.

“You can die.”

There was stress in those words. In those amused, cold words-- until he flashed the fucker a quick, and large smile, entirely toothy in character, and merrily informed the asshole--

“I mean, really, you already knew that--” Jessie grimaced in mocking disapproval with himself, then shrugged--

“But, yano.” Another grimace-- this one dipped in tease. “I figured-- ey, fucker’s lowkey forgotten that tiny ass part of being a vamp-- so how’s that shoulder?”

Jessie waggled his brows.

“Sounds like I just gave you an extra hole.”

He cackled at himself-- since, clearly, some legit comedy value here.

Posted 05-02-2021, 11:59 AM

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When he's shot, he's more confused than anything else.

The bullet tears through his coat, through his shouder-- muscles, bone, cartilage and everything else, and yet he doesn't feel a thing. There's no associated pain, just a sort of.. sting. Not entirely unpleasant either, if he had to describe it. Certainly, it doesn't hurt him, and his accelerated healing allows him to move his shoulder just a moment after the round pierced through him.

His attention is placed there for a moment, dropping his coat partially to look at the wound and see it healing before his eyes. He's not had this happen to him before and there's almost a childlike curiosity there, beside his better judgment to pay attention to the human who's shown that he is actually a threat. Kind of. He doesn't seem to want to kill him.

There's a moment of silence there and it registers that he should be angry that he was shot, and although it's a slow reaction he does eventually pull his coat back up, glaring at the man.

"Can't die from a shot to the shoulder you fuckin' idiot." He shrugs the shoulder, which by now is further along in the healing process and which doesn't hurt him to use, because he can't feel the sensation of pain.

He's getting impatient now too and takes a few more steps forward, his eyes changing in his anger. Not fully golden but somewhere between human and vampire, his fangs, very much visible. The uninjured arm quickly reaches for the man's hand with the gun, attempting to crush his wrist but not entirely. Maybe just damage it, somewhat. And as he does, he wants to do it slowly, and his grip is tight.

"Try to do that again."

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 12:22 PM

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Shot, and confused.

You ain’t ever feel that, did you, fucker?

Jessie’s eyes narrowed; his mind swam with every fact on the level V that the people didn’t yet know of, that remained hidden but a secret held privy by those that acted equipped to deal with it--

Jessie didn’t think he was. He didn't think any of them was--

A moment of self-doubt, suppose-- a way of differentiating himself from the foolish lot who knew themselves well capable of ending the likes of level V fuckers--

Like this one here. This fucker here.

And yet Jessie-- despite this insistence he knew he couldn’t win this, despite everything-- remained rooted to the spot, and excitement began to beat his heart ferociously.

Maybe because he was watching the man’s shoulder heal; maybe, because no matter the many times he had seen that happen, he wished for a repeat of such sights; he wished to stand close-- so, so very close, enough to see every little thread of tissue as it wrapped over a new injury, knitted whole; enough to hear-- actually hear the shift in muscle, and be able to feel the song of roiling, angry blood--

That close.

He wasn’t that close.

And he smiled--

“You really are stupid,” he said to the man-- sporting a big smile. After all--

Didn’t he know that already? Was the vampire saying he should have shot him in the head?

… He should have. He really, really should have.

And as the man approached him-- Jessie knew that he was no match for the speed. Still, he backed away; the instinct was ol’, and imbued into him, as integral to his being as the ability to sigh.

So when grabbed, however hard of a hold twas--

He just moaned.

And he moaned for the pain that came from the tension in his wrist appealed to the many sick, and wrong parts of his mind begging more.

And he replied to him, grinning--

“Alright, daddy.”

Then, he kissed the vampire fucker; with his fangs out, still, his eyes dangerously shifting in color, a sight of nothing but pure, and pure power, as Jessie hooked a leg behind the other’s knee, buckling the underside of it to make it cave, and throw the man off his balance.

So that they could fall, of course, and fall together to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

And mistakes.

And mess.

Posted 05-02-2021, 12:40 PM

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Whatever reaction he was expecting, it wasn't what he got. Not in the slightest. In fact, his eyes seem to go fully blue once again for a very brief moment in his utter shock-- the human part of his brain reeling with a sense of what the fuck is going on, at this moment?

It's short lived though, and when Jessie throws him off balance he does fall, and Jessie does topple onto him, and he is disgusted and furious with how it's playing out. The language he used, while not unfamiliar to him has never come from another male before and it's enough to make him feel violated, in a very real way. Him, being violated? Not acceptable.

In a very quick movement, Nils grabs the man's jaw and shoves him off as hard as he can, scrambling to move out from under him to move to a more advantageous position, pinning him down hard onto the ground with one hand and with another, harshly pressing his face into a puddle of rainwater. Not enough to attempt any sort of drowning, just enough to show he's offended.

His own adrenaline rush slows after a moment, since he has the advantage in a fight against any human, and in a way, it gets old after a while. His anger ceases, and he takes a second to think the situation through. After a second, he lets go of him and starts laughing again, fangs still visible, eyes still fighting between blue and gold, whichever emotion takes the more conscious part of his mind at the moment.

And then he leans down, pressing hard on the man's throat, leaning in enough to where he can hear his pulse very loudly and it's too much for him to not want to bite. Despite having just fed, he's not in a space where he can control his urges as well as other Patient Zeroes may be able to. He has to bite.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 12:56 PM

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He got him.

The sense of victory was rather short-lived, but while it lasted, Jessie expertly utilized a thing ain’t been recognized clearly--

He had two arms.

And the other whipped behind himself within a moment--

But maybe, he was still slow.

He was pushed off. Something which he didn’t mind, and in the altercation, he sought to put himself on his two healthy legs, his both arms freed now--

Both ‘em.

A useless fact.

And no matter the momentum he was quick to make his own--

The cunt grabbed him, and pinned him down.

His world, for a moment, rocked.

As rainwater reached Jessie’s nose, he snorted reflexively, and chuckled weirdly, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening; the rain carried on, as well; the world, however it liked to be noted in feelings, or words, didn’t in fact care to halt, or allow a sense of respite for its denizens. It just was.

And it just was even now-- and the raindrops, like a curse, drummed and drummed.

And Jessie laughed against the water, and coughed too to repel which he had accidentally inhaled, and his strands, wet from this abuse, toppled down his cheeks, and he smirked.

His arm, one bereft of bruising, was still onto the weapon that he had reached to grab, a knife long, and thin; the glock had been lost in the scuffle; having hit the ground, and not (miraculously) fired, it was out of Jessie’s reach, and therefore a mockery of safety, and a proof of how little being hardass mattered when you were faced with an old vampire.

And this fucker had to be old.

Old, and hungry, and Jessie felt the pressure on his neck that came as the pressure released, and as the asshole finished laughing--

And Jessie's heart skipped a beat.

“I thought you’d just fed,” he grumbled into the puddle-- and almost, just almost there could have been a hint of fear in his words.

If he bites me, he can infect me.

Act.

But he didn’t.

His heart beat on-- wild. So, super super wild; and he craned his head up-- as if he had the want to glare at the rain; to watch it drop; to feel it onto himself and then admire its descent onto the ground; as if he labored under some inkling, a sure, and real inkling noise that he was dying tonight, and he had to beg, beg, please--

Just fucking beg.

But he didn’t.

“D-don’t,” he said instead, shivering-- his eyes wild, almost angry-- too alive, really.

No anger--

Maybe fear?

Maybe surely fear?

Stomach down to the floor, and his face still wet from the water--

And his legs splayed out, and his wrist throbbing where he had been grabbed-- and yet the pain tickled, pleasing as all hell. And the arousal he felt--

Entirely too wrong.

Posted 05-02-2021, 01:19 PM

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The sense that he was in control added to just how much he was starting to like how the situation turned in his favor and, despite having already fed entirely on a human all to himself, once the bloodlust kicked in, the feeling of being full didn't really interfere with his need to bite. It was a strange sort of conundrum. Overfeeding could slow him down, make him not feel entirely well, but he could hardly stand the thought of not biting, at this moment.

With Jessie apparently so helpless underneath him, he kept laughing and lowered his mouth dangerously close to his neck, skimming his skin with his teeth but not yet clamping down, although he wanted to. He could smell his blood, hear it coursing through his jugular, feel the heat and the quickening heartbeat that drove it.

"Don't?" He grinned, moving away from his neck for a moment and grabbing onto either side of his jaw, forcing him to look up at him, not at the rain. "You wanted it so bad just a second ago."

He's used to this kind of game, actually. With women, though. It's how he feeds and how he captures his victims. Lots of flirting, lots of sex, and then he goes in for the kill. It's not natural for him to try this with a man, but then he doesn't really see humans as much more than objects anyway. This one's just.. not his preferred. He'll take what he can get though.

With his preference for cruelty and drawing things out, he moves to where he's in a better position to keep him pinned and leans down to his neck again, opening his mouth and going to at least breathe on his neck. Teasing, in a way. But then, he stops and goes to get back up, quickly going to pull Jessie up as well before shoving him hard into a wall and moving to pin him there instead, where he's more comfortable.

And then, just like the man had done to him to throw him off guard and to shock and confuse him, he goes to kiss him again as well. It's harsh, though. His fangs are out, he could easily cut him and draw blood, and he's incredibly forceful with it, clearly not getting any pleasure from it apart from the fact that he's trying to hurt him, with one hand around his throat and pressing in tightly.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 01:41 PM

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So close, he was so close.

And he was attractive-- and belatedly, really, really just belatedly, it occurred.

Perhaps the hardness in his pants was a sign of nervous arousal-- after all, an erection didn’t have to mean anything.

Or maybe, it meant so much right now. When he wanted to moan-- when he felt putty, weirdly, and put into his place.

Ready to buck like a whore.

He didn’t.

He just felt his breath stagger--

His jaw was grabbed. Head turned. So so. Until he could look up at the asshole--

Why Jessie was smirking was a wonder; why he cared to look like he was amused, and aroused, like he wanted so much surely should have eluded every kind of reason, logic be damned and ain’t no way of pinning this down with a word that should suffice.

This is madness, this is madness, he thought, and yet he puffed almost angrily when he got called out--

And yet he couldn’t deny that; the new, and sudden loathing in his gaze however said that.

Fuck you-- bursting out of his expression, so fierce in his eyes even as tried to force his gaze away from the cunt-- to screw his eyes shut as if that should block this all out.

As if that made bad things disappear--

Or it ever had.

And the breathing-- god, the breathing. The drawn out, horrible torture; that prolonged, and mean tease; the way this cunt toyed with the quality of his life--

How he owned it.

i t w a s s o g o o d

He was grabbed, and held up so easily, and even so quickly against the wall that for a moment, he may not have comprehended it; just the sense of weightlessness, the shock in his face-- how unnatural that felt; so, so unnatural--

But the position against the wall, really, was more familiar.

He hit his head against it.

Just a little bit.

And then the kiss that offended, and took him off guard--

Hey, that’s my trick! Get your own!

But he hissed-- with loathing, he hissed into this pretend kiss, not even enjoying it a little bit-- the fangs threatened him, and the subtle coating of copper on the inside of the man’s mouth was disgusting.

Jessie kicked him-- he kicked him, it was feeble, it was lacking.

So he wrapped his arms around him.

And rather than defend against a kiss he had no means of escaping, or pushing against a man who was surely too strong to defeat him--

Jessie hung on the man.

And Jessie hoisted himself up--

And wrapped, quickly, like he was used to doing this (he was) his legs ‘round the man’s waist in a tight, tight coil that pressed their groins together--

That pressed his hardness against the other---

That elicited a choked out a sound from him--

(Like laughter.)

Until Jessie bit into the man’s lower savagely, knowing a fang scraped against his lips-- that his blood and the man’s were shared by their mouths. Coppery. And thick. And tense with a flavor that meant nothing to his human self.

And still not finished, the dagger he had drawn out was swung, aiming for the man's neck to wedge itself between his C1 and C2 vertebrae, enough to paralyze a man.

Enough to stop someone in their tracks.

For a moment.

Posted 05-02-2021, 01:56 PM

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For Nils, this isn't sexually gratifying. It's simply a way of hurting him, and using his own methods against him. The kiss is meant to be painful and he's trying to cut him with his teeth, and when he succeeds in this and tastes his blood, he actually seems to calm down somewhat. Like he's got his prize, and he can be happy with it for a moment.

The kicks don't really affect them. He feels them, but they don't hurt. It's like someone tapping him on the shoulder or in this case, the leg. He's too busy at the moment getting the taste of blood, and while he's happy with what he got, he wants more. His intention is to bite, for real. He's had enough playing around and he wants to suffocate the man slowly, just enough to where he's still alive but can't fight back, and get a few more drops of blood out of him. That's his plan.

It's distracting, the legs around his waist. It's uncomfortable and he wants to push away, but he goes with it for now as he's convinced the man will be dead in a moment and he won't have to put up with his antics anymore. In fact, he may draw out his death further by draining him of blood from a lesser vein. One in his arm, perhaps. The wheels are turning, how to make him suffer.

He's growling, too. The blood in his mouth takes away any sense of humanity while it coats his tongue and while he's capable of thought, he isn't capable of speech. At least, not yet. Not this early into this stage. It's something to develop over time, relearning how to walk, essentially.

He's forgotten about the blade.

He barely sees it, really. The distractions are too much and when it penetrates into his neck he does recoil, moving away quickly from his place and stumbling back, losing his balance and footing and falling to the ground-- it hurts. He feels like he can't move for a second and without his speech, he hisses violently at the man-- the only thing he can do until he feels that he can move his arms again, going to try to pry it out.

It's stuck in there pretty good though, and in his anger he starts shaking, trying his best to get the knife out but not quite able to control his movements enough yet, with it healing and yet the nerve still being penetrated by the blade at the same time.

Ironically, he needs help getting it out. And at the moment, he's something like a rabid animal all over again.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 02:16 PM

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It landed.

Yes!

And the blood within Jessie’s veins stirred terrible, and roiled hot. He felt powerful at once. He was not.

As the knife went through skin, and flesh, and sinew and entered its target, as he wedged it well in a manner he had adopted as his signature move, guess, the vampire hissed--

And let go.

Jessie collapsed to the ground.

Coughing, and coughing, and wheezing and his chest heaving, and his vision blurred for a few instances, his panic active; the fight or flight instinct hit him strongly, and he’d not fight.

He’d not even flee.

He acted immediately.

As his vision cleared, as the white spots ‘bout him disappeared, as his worldview turned soft, too, too and impossibly soft, adrenaline returned to pump ferociously through his blood. It loaded him immensely, savage, and thorough in the course throughout his figure, making soft shapes clearer-- making all things tender sharper; until he was clambering to stand and move, until he had skidded across the wet, wet fucking floor in haste to recover his gun, and whipped it about to aim at the cunt--

And yet Jessie, as if he were a fool, or a person who’d been reading romance novels too much, and therefore appeared to hope something other could come out of this situation--

He didn’t shoot the cunt.

Even as his wrist throbbed, even as his erection came down-- even as he felt sick to his stomach and for many more minutes just wanted to cough, and cough--

He just backed off.

On this rainy day, he placed himself out; directly beneath the glaring, daily light.

But it wasn’t strong.

Not at all, and not much, and yet Jessie doubled over, hands on his knees for a few seconds, eyes wild and comprehending as clarity reached, and hit him.

“I hate you,” he told the cunt, writhing, so far helpless on the floor-- an ideal target, really.

And yet--

“I FUCKING HATE YOU.”

He should not have shouted. Clarity was gone.

Madness, and fury seemed to provoke these shouts, and passion made of loathing, and cold made the words echo, and boom strong.

He still had the other's blood on his tongue; mixed with his own, oddly intoxicating--

And wrong.

“GET YOUR OWN FUCKING TRICK UP THE SLEEVE, YOU MANGY WHIPPED SLUT.”

It echoed on, and on--

He laughed.

"WANNA FUCK?"

Posted 05-02-2021, 02:38 PM

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The man screaming at him hardly registers. The pain he feels in his neck is something he can't quite put to words. It's sharp, it burns, and he can't get it removed by himself and in his writhing around, he might be making it worse.

There's a sort of appreciation for it, though. He hasn't felt pain in decades.

For him now, he can't formulate many thoughts. He's trying his best to reach the blade but his muscles are having trouble working with where the tip of the blade is at, in his neck. A man would be paralyzed and while he's not human technically, his internal workings are still similar. His healing ability is running around in circles and when he gets a grip on the handle, he loses it seconds later.

Only after another few minutes does he knock it loose, cutting deeper into his flesh as he pulls it out but that will heal within the day, at least.

For now, the fight is out of him.

In this state, he's still just hissing and growling. Not much more than an animal here, really. The blood on his hand from the blade he instinctively goes to lick away, even with it being his own. And since it's his own, the blood lust is absent. He's just cleaning it off his land.

Having gotten himself somewhat of a distance away from Jessie, he goes to pull himself up. He's not all that weak but it's hard to concentrate now, with a gaping wound in his neck that's going to take a while to heal. It's not like the clean bullet wound, this one did real damage.

As soon as he's about to speak, he can see the sun peeking out from behind the rain clouds and growls again, under his breath. He's not nearly as photosensitive as he was, but it makes him uncomfortable still just due to him naturally being a nocturnal creature.

Rather than speak up, he's retreating back into the little shelter he had been in before, where the woman offered to share with him. It's dark in there, anyway.

Tag @Jessie Michels

Posted 05-02-2021, 03:06 PM

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