[ the glow is. not new, she's seen it now, but the action prompts more questions than answers as shadows give way to shapes and then —
— the scent of blood, rich and coppery and sharp, floods caroline's senses. it's a near immediate reaction; her eyes flutter shut and then snap back open, revealing dark irises, the veins beneath twisting and angry. perhaps most obviously, as caroline opens her mouth to speak, canines expand to drag down, filed into sharp points perfect for puncturing skin. ]
It's perfect.
[ she knows what he's trying to do. to expose the blood a little at a time, make it easier for her to get to, prevent her from having to use too much force. she'll try. she can't promise, but she'll try.
she crosses to close the space between them, hands curling around his wrist and elbow to keep his arm steady; there's a beat as she looks up at him, as if checking for one last change of heart, but it doesn't come. he doesn't pull away or stammer out any rejections, and so caroline dips her head, mouth opening over the new cut with delicate precision.
the first lap of her tongue is — hesitant, almost. too aware of the situation, too aware of the risks of this somewhat public place. but when nothing happens, when her chest isn't suddenly impaled, caroline gives in. her lips press flush against his skin, fangs sliding in; there's the peripheral awareness of blue glowing from her chest, the sensation of emotions flowing back and forth. he'll feel caroline's gratitude, her fear, her pain and loneliness — and her optimism, too, always there, always a spark somewhere in the dark.
there's pleasure, too. not just the pleasure of feeding after so long without, but the effects of a vampire's bite slowly spreading across his skin. that natural, predatory gift, to trick victims into wanting to offer themselves up as feeding sources; though caroline's bite is enthusiastic, she doesn't roughen him up or jerk his arm, careful not to inflict any more pain than she absolutely has to. ]
no subject
[ the glow is. not new, she's seen it now, but the action prompts more questions than answers as shadows give way to shapes and then —
— the scent of blood, rich and coppery and sharp, floods caroline's senses. it's a near immediate reaction; her eyes flutter shut and then snap back open, revealing dark irises, the veins beneath twisting and angry. perhaps most obviously, as caroline opens her mouth to speak, canines expand to drag down, filed into sharp points perfect for puncturing skin. ]
It's perfect.
[ she knows what he's trying to do. to expose the blood a little at a time, make it easier for her to get to, prevent her from having to use too much force. she'll try. she can't promise, but she'll try.
she crosses to close the space between them, hands curling around his wrist and elbow to keep his arm steady; there's a beat as she looks up at him, as if checking for one last change of heart, but it doesn't come. he doesn't pull away or stammer out any rejections, and so caroline dips her head, mouth opening over the new cut with delicate precision.
the first lap of her tongue is — hesitant, almost. too aware of the situation, too aware of the risks of this somewhat public place. but when nothing happens, when her chest isn't suddenly impaled, caroline gives in. her lips press flush against his skin, fangs sliding in; there's the peripheral awareness of blue glowing from her chest, the sensation of emotions flowing back and forth. he'll feel caroline's gratitude, her fear, her pain and loneliness — and her optimism, too, always there, always a spark somewhere in the dark.
there's pleasure, too. not just the pleasure of feeding after so long without, but the effects of a vampire's bite slowly spreading across his skin. that natural, predatory gift, to trick victims into wanting to offer themselves up as feeding sources; though caroline's bite is enthusiastic, she doesn't roughen him up or jerk his arm, careful not to inflict any more pain than she absolutely has to. ]