The change is swift, like a tidal wave rolling over the two of them. In truth, the Major didn't really expect his words to get him very far. The threat was heavy and ominous, but their relationship had always bordered on the precipice of such a threat — while never verbalized until now, North really hadn't expect the other to heel just as fast as he suddenly did. That spirit, that antagonizing bastard that did everything in his power to get under North's skin was suddenly gone, replaced instead by a good little soldier who wanted nothing more than to end this little charade of theirs.
North is surprised by the apology, whether truthful or not. It reflects in his gaze as his grip loosens. The knife disappears from his side — what had Jessie honestly thought he was going to do with it anyway? — and the Major pulls himself into a standing position again, putting some breathing room between them once more. Jessie asks to go, and as the predator stands there observing him, he picks up on something.
Thump thump thump.
A heart beat, beating against a rib cage like a frightening animal in a cage. Dizzying, and quick; breathing to match. It lines up for the man and he simply grins as he realizes what he's stumbled across. The poor lamb is afraid.
“Well well well. Where was all that bravado you had just a second ago? The one that had you calling me daddy — the one that was so eager to throw himself on my desk?” North places a hand against Jessie's naked chest; if the man tried to get up, he'd be held in place by a strength not quite human.
The mix of sweat, dirt, and blood reaches him once again now that his temper has cooled and North's gaze fixes on the trail of blood that's now smeared across Jessie's chest, like a grotesque painting. His heartbeat, so close and so rapid that North can feel it against his fingertips.
“Don't ever be wrong again, Jessie. I don't fear anything,” he hums quietly, almost innocently, as his fingers are suddenly on the move, dancing across naked flesh. “But I wonder what you fear?” There's no warning as North suddenly digs his fingers into the lacerations on Jessie's chest, blood welling up around his fingers as he pushes them into warm flesh, as if wanting to dig out the man's heart right then and there. The blood, so intoxicating, he wants nothing more than to bend down and feed. But somehow he controls his urges as he instead matches Jessie's brilliant blue gaze with a cold, calculating stare.TAGJessie Michels
tw: sexual themes, dark themes, uhhhh idk... violence. and blood.
The man leaned back; the distance to pop in between thrummed, wounded, and Jessie thought--
Good.
Good.
--such a genuine relief, briefly, showing in his eyes--
He steeled the rest back, quickly so; forbade a glimpse; made zero out of one.
Yet the presence of this smile changed it all-- and Jessie’s eyes widened in shock and fearing; in a sense of understanding:
I f u c k e d u p.
And he could not hide it.
Somehow, it tilted his world.
The hand to his chest snapped him down; it hurt this distance gentle and growing, a wound yet hot and gaping and he wanted-- distance: again; larger and larger so but a chasm sprung betwixt their frames; a hand there where Jessie hadn't said yes--
--never mind his own hypocritical boldness--
In a moment he’d ceased touching the other as well--
A moment he found it brazen.
And wrong.
--then his skin crawled, then he shivered and scooted away--
--then and what do y o u fear--
“No.”
Jessie’s own sprung up, reacted so-- aimed to catch and cease in a moment of the instinct and panic.
Stop and yet he was too late--
His scream was loud; right from his lungs; visceral and red like the blood and hard like a bone-- shocking and trembling, his body quaking, a gasp and jolt of it and his muscles gave a screech of defense, and shock; and pain, so pain much; so much nice, burning pain; and Jessie opened his eyes in a loathing, in shock; in a sense of betrayal and resentment as he glared-- glared-- lips still parted, chest heaving--
Glared emotionally and accusingly at North Sigurd. A man whom he would murder, surely should he scheme as between his legs--
The hardness appeared.
He denied it.
Denied it as his mind raged on; between fury; and pain; and offense, and something more.
Jessie slumped-- lips quaking as in apparent shock he looked down at himself-- to see what skin and meat the fingers had collected-- where rivers of blood ran amok, and became rivulets branching off--
Where he saw blood.
--the cock throbbed, once more.
Lungs tired, and breath insulted, Jessie gasped for an inhale-- and exhaled too tired and deep as he slumped back on the desk; eyes closed and his pain moaned; it hurt his wounds, all the more.
Jessie looked up. Glared back with anger.
And daring.
And a cold challenge--
Yet what came out of his mouth post the scream-- that heavy, taxing scream was just a wounded whisper full of loathing--
That scream — that delicious, pain-filled scream that echoed the dying screams of his prey. North fed on it, hungered for it, and wasn't even careful about the way his fingers slipped into flesh and dug deep. His stare is cold, calculating, predatory — he views Jessie as a piece of meat in that very instance, and the Infected monster inside of him claws hungrily at his throat. His fangs burn as blood spills across his fingers, an undeniable warmth to the liquid that calls to his bestial nature.
Their eyes meet. Like a wounded animal Jessie's glare fights back against North's hungry one, and the Major can't help the sick, twisted grin that stretches across his lips.
He feels the man's hardness pressing against him.
What was it with humans that made their bodies want to fuck at the first threat of death? Or was that just a sick, heated lust that only Jessie possessed? North allows the man to fall back against the desk, fingers plucked from flesh and left with stained evidence of the man's malicious wrongdoing. It's a welcome heat, and North's gaze is drawn to the blood — it's only with ten year's worth of willpower that he manages to keep himself from emerging as his true, Infected self in that very instance.
But he returns his gaze to Jessie, who is gazing up at him with a look full of hate. Who could blame him? It makes North smile, one that's just a little too full of teeth to be anything kind.
“Sure, pup,” he muses in a low tone, once more dropping his bloodied hand to drag fingers across toned abs, leaving crimson trails in their wake. He meets the other man's eyes once more as his hand trails lower, and lower still — bloodied fingers dance across the bulge in the man's pants, a tease rather than anything satisfying. A twisted, but calculated touch.
“Go on then. Run—” the hand suddenly grips Jessie's hips as North does a slow, methodical roll of their groins together, his own hard length pressing against Jessie's in a most delicious way— “and hide.” Then he pulls away, stepping away from the man spread on his desk. North gives the man one last, hungry look before he finally turns his back on the man, eyes cast out to the city laid out before him once more.TAGJessie Michels
It was that smile. That smile. It was so much; it was how North looked at him, a look that Jessie recognized as being disgusting--
It was a look too that made him shower with longing; that made him feel right and ready for the cock--
He'd always deny it.
(Maybe he could not if he possessed a smile not; where’s your cockiness, where’s your arrogance--
--Where.)
And Jessie inhaled-- hard. Looking down at his body.
Seeing the look on North--
Having no idea, immediately who he was: a man, indeed, or a demon for sure.
But as Jessie’s thoughts danced between the options, and he knew respite neither comfort, until the words arrived--
Pup.
And he frowned; frowned-- and watched, breath bated after all as North trailed his hand down-- the scratches buzzing, and the blood hot; no real reaction on him, unsure whether a kill of hundred lurked behind the expression of his--
Or a monster of the mortal realm.
Jessie just knew-- knew that somehow the pup was dancing; somehow, he was now angry; somehow, it wouldn't disappear. Not when he was touched.
Once more.
Just the roll of their hips that involuntarily slapped the moan of out of his mouth, like a half muttered yes; like daddy he'd wanted to say; only like; a touch of their groins pushing cock into a cock; sliding in a hello to a hard throb.
y e s
And a look of hunger and Jessie’s eyes were wide. So wide.
(So desirous.)
Until--
--North pulled away and Jessie gasped, looking half onto the other, half mesmerized by the near back that surrounded them both; in the dimness of his office, the man stood majestic, if not the sort that fit this position better than someone like Jessie-- twasn’t a fact Jessie was oblivious to; neither would choose to; a fact, still, that left him bitter a little bit, but then twas no worry nor notion of his as the words haunted him--
As he heard--
“Hide.”
And he exhaled at that, still slumped--
“Pup.”
The offense bled from his words, and--
“Excuse me,” he tiredly gasped, before he pridefully got off onto his feet--
Not even woozy; or wobbly; oddly determined-- (as he bled.)
Surely thinking of saying many, many things; accusing and glaring with his blue eyes at him--
Wondering, wondering--
Wondering--
... wondering...
Hard.
Dazed.
“Want to fuck?”
He looked half shocked at that.
Posted 05-23-2021, 06:23 PMThis post was last modified: 05-24-2021, 04:45 AM by Jessie Michels
North was expecting the man to run. Maybe not like some scared little animal like he insinuated Jessie was — the Secret Service didn't hire cowards after all — but the man had asked to leave, and the Major had given him that opportunity to leave. Little did the human know the longer he stayed in the office, the dizzying scent of blood overwhelming the pungent air, the more he drew out the Infected's patience until it was razor thin.
North heard Jessie muttering behind him; of course he did, superior hearing and all that. It drew his lips into a terse line, but he didn't even bother to turn around, choosing instead to keep his gaze focused on the landscape below him. As if Jessie was too much of a bother to capture his attention, even when the harsh excuse me reached his ears. Not even that forced the Major to turn around, but what the other man finally ended with certainly did. North raises a brow, half questioning the sanity of the man currently dripping with blood, while a laugh threatens to break out. He quickly shoves it deep inside of him.
Oh, so now he wanted to fuck? After all that?
North half turns his head — his body, still rigid and outlined by the cityscape lights — just enough so that Jessie can see the unimpressed expression on his face. Just enough so that he can see how the human currently looked like a deer in headlights, as if surprised by his own question. It's almost laughable, really. Had it been anyone else — literally anyone — the Infected would have quickly bed them for a meal and some fun.
Come now Jessie, we're both too old to only be thinking with our dicks. The sneer is evidence of his thoughts.
“I'm sorry, but I thought you didn't fuck men like me, and never will?” It's a rhetorical question, as he quotes the man's words from earlier that still ring like warning bells in his ears. “After all, I'm just a... What? Cheap villain in an erotic novel?” He scoffs, and turns his head back towards the window, once more closing himself off from the man behind him.
He stood there in silence, half expecting for the world to end; when it didn’t, he had the pleasurable curse of watching the derision play out on the other’s features--
Perhaps, it wasn’t obvious; perhaps, it was imagined; when the other did look at him so slightly, so subtly as if he were glimpsing at a fly, or a spider crawling by his feet, Jessie grimaced, admitting his defeat--
Feeling so small.
Yet no matter what something stubborn within him existed, something mean that didn’t dislike the no in that, rather hated how the asshole went about it.
What Jessie ended up with was pouting-- a very adult, and yet obvious pouting; when he furled his lips unpleasantly, when he actually crossed his arms--
And winced, remembering the scratch marks; he looked there sourly, too, unwinding his arm.
Observing the painful marks as they ceased the bleeding, ugly, and clumsy and yet deep-- still stinking up the air, coppery.
And eventually, twas an offended glare Jessie slammed North with, not even concealing how this insulted him--
Not even bothering to hide that weird, and hot flush of reproach below his eyes, and that absolutely seething, jilted look of a lover told no.
“Why you,” he delicately began, actually starting out towards North-- actually making that one threatening step forward as if he would stomp on right over, slap the man across his cheek-- no doubt with a silken, white glove on top of it-- and then march right off, looking the latter part, for sure.
Instead-- Jessie wore his offense obviously-- such that it seemed now his personal crest, worn with pride--
He should not have been proud.
Fuck, as he started for North once more, ever the princess in his chosen role of a Victorian chaperone, he could only say the following--
“Now you’re just being NITPICKY.”
Absolutely the worst offense in the world--
--judging by his voice.
So bad that Jessie could tilt his head up, no doubt wordlessly saying ha, got you here!, before he flared the other a victorious, unembarrassed smile--
Turned around and slammed his stomach into the edge of the desk.
“Oh, fuck me and call me Sally.”
With that punch of pain gasped out of his frame, and his hands reflectively curling 'round the edge-- he exhaled, monitoring his breaths, and counting down to calming himself-- before Jessie shook his head, turned his back on the ass, and with surprising calm--
(and a flip of his hair)
--and just a tiny waddle of pain--
--walked his way right out of here.
As, all things considered, one should. Posted 05-24-2021, 11:24 AMThis post was last modified: 05-24-2021, 11:25 AM by Jessie Michels
North listens to the man's little temper tantrum — because that's all it is — but he doesn't give Jessie the pleasure of turning to look at him again. The air is still swamped with blood and lust, and there's only so much North can do to keep his own beasts at bay with the human in the same room as him. He hears the swear as the man runs into the desk, and then footsteps fading as he finally leaves the office, giving North room to breathe.
The Infected hums as a smile spreads across his lips. How amusing it was to see the humans with a chip on their shoulder crumble beneath him. It hadn't been easy, but savouring the fall was almost as pleasurable as the end result.
Tongue slips between protruding fangs as North lazily draws his bloodied hand up towards his mouth, delicately lapping off the fresh, coppery blood from his fingertips. It was still warm, tasting of Jessie — and North savours it.
Posted 05-23-2021, 04:45 PM
This medicine is wearing thin now
