[ of all things, he hadn't been expecting an outright attack. sure, he'd been shaking things up in the political scene to make some old blood make faces his way, but nobody had seemed to think his ideas were bad.
he'd completely forgotten to take good old human xenophobia and fear of change into account. it simply hadn't occurred to him to think that some people might not be happy about vampires being more publicly acknowledged, or having more safety nets in place for them— even if the result lead to humans being safer from predation.
stupid. because now there's a stake driven through his heart and he's too weak to try to break out of the bindings the hunters slapped on him before they manhandled him into the trunk of a car (even if they are holy— there's a small part of him gibbering in indignation over the fact that he got his ass handed to him so thoroughly by people so obviously incompetent). they've been arguing for the past half hour— he hasn't been able to hear most of it between it being drowned out by the sound of the road and engine and the whole "barely conscious" thing. but what he can make out sounds like an argument about what to do with him, concern about evidence—
there's another skip as his vision greys out. when awareness fades in they aren't driving anymore. he's being dragged over rocks, and it smells like... salt? ... the sea. what in God's name...?
the answer to that comes when they throw him off of the cliff, still chained, into the water below. mercifully, he starts to pass out again before he can hit the water; it's not like he can do anything but sink. at least this way he won't be aware of it— ]
[It's the scent of blood that draws him. He's no shark, but he's absolutely a predator, and these waters belong to him.
He doesn't think about why he grips the stake in his teeth, ripping it out before gripping the intruder by the back of his neck and dragging him home. He doesn't bother to question his own motivations. He simply acts on impulse, and his impulse tonight is to at least put forth an effort in keeping this creature alive.
It isn't quite dawn when Chris awakes on a rocky beach, freezing water still lapping at the soles of his shoes. His hands are unbound, the stake removed, and a very naked man is laid out beside him on a silvery, spotted pelt, apparently napping.]
[ between the cold and the gaping hole left by the stake, he wakes up slowly— or rather, he wakes up slowly. his body and instinct snapped to it almost immediately and dismissed the nearby life as an immediate threat or prey (the stake removed, teeth clamped on the back of his neck rather than ripping his throat out), so it's only after several minutes of bleary staring at the sky that he actually starts glancing around.
which honestly leads to a few more moments of bleary staring, because. well. naked man on the beach next to him. after the initial moment of confusion, though, he thinks to sniff— obviously he's not human, so maybe he's—
—and that was a mistake, because he's bled out enough into the sea and the sand below him that the smell of it and something living drives all other thought out of his head as hunger knots up in his stomach, his vision going sharp as his eyes abruptly blaze red. he's starving, he's dying, and life is right there—
he's rolled over onto his hands and knees and flopped across the other man before he can even begin to register that he's lost control, much less wrestle it back. ]
[ that isn't at all hard to do; he's barely strong enough to hold himself up, let alone provide any resistance. he goes under with a thready hiss, but it doesn't stop him from trying to bite. ]
[If Chris is aiming for his throat, Kou ducks the bite. If not, he gets to have that little victory, because the naked man makes a sharp, threatening sound, almost a bark, and ducks to grip Chris's throat in his (mouthful of very large, and sharp) teeth.]
[ he hadn't been aiming anywhere in particular, so his little victory is a mouthful of arm and more importantly a mouthful of blood. the teeth on his throat give him pause, though; he whines and goes mostly limp without thinking about it, letting go and shivering as he tries to hold still, to not go after what he can still taste.
[Barks again, the sound vibrating muffled against Chris's throat, and those teeth grip tightly enough to draw a little blood.
...But going limp is a good move for Chris, and the stranger sits up, straddling him with shameless ease, drawing a forearm across his bloody mouth as he regards the vampire.]
[ there's not much of it on Kou's mouth— maybe not surprising, considering how much Chris had lost, but at the same time definitely not enough for anything living. it doesn't taste quite right for blood, either; not in a bad way, though. if anything, it's the opposite.
he just lies there with his neck still bared in submission as he's looked over, red eyes half-closed and mouth half open as he licks blood off of his own lips and fangs. his eyes shut as he swallows. ]
[Kou hasn't dealt with vampires, before. Hasn't cared enough for land to be around to hear stories, either. But it's evident enough that what Chris needs is blood, just from his reactions.]
Stop when I say.
[It was easy to miss how husky from disuse his voice is when he was only barking, but it's probably even easier to miss when he's placing a wrist against Chris's mouth. Priorities and all.]
[ priorities indeed. he'll notice later, probably; at the moment he barely even registers the words, let alone the tone they're being said in. it stings again as his fangs slice in, and then goes numb; Chris makes a faint noise of desperate needy relief as he starts to drink, one hand coming up to hold onto the stranger's. ]
[ swallowing greedily, actually starting to relax instead of just lying limp. the combination of being put in his place and then fed is enough for instinct to take over; he's not going to be killed and he's not going to starve, so clearly he's being cared for. ]
[it's the next evening, and kieran emerges from the water, shifting back to his humanoid shape much more readily than he has the last few times, even leaving his pelt halfway between the water and Chris as he approaches.]
[ he's still freshly woken enough that he's still in the loose curl he'd slept in, blinking groggily, but he looks up readily enough at the sound of splashing and smiles ]
[ stretches and pushes himself up easily enough, wincing a little when he gets a headrush. ...that bruisy look to his chest is back, though, even if it hasn't spread as far out from the stab wound as it had before ]
Did you have a good day...?
[ kind of wry. like, what else is he supposed to ask about here ]
[ he's freezing again :') the same temperature as the sand and sea, which is probably why he makes a pleased sort of noise and leans into Kieran's hand ]
That's still better than it could be... mm. Your hands are warm.
abruptly pulls away and stands, but only so he can sit back down behind Chris and tug him into his lap, to press his whole warm front to his back and curl around him.]
[ settles in a little more, for once letting himself be aware that he's sitting on Kieran while Kieran is naked. ...what he's doing isn't exactly ethical, but it's fine, isn't it? it's better than freaking him out again. ]
Thanks... it'll take me a bit. Changing how I bite isn't really a conscious decision, so I'll have to trick myself into it.
[ lifting Kieran's wrist to his lips— and instead of biting he just fits his mouth against it, tongue to his pulse ]
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he'd completely forgotten to take good old human xenophobia and fear of change into account. it simply hadn't occurred to him to think that some people might not be happy about vampires being more publicly acknowledged, or having more safety nets in place for them— even if the result lead to humans being safer from predation.
stupid. because now there's a stake driven through his heart and he's too weak to try to break out of the bindings the hunters slapped on him before they manhandled him into the trunk of a car (even if they are holy— there's a small part of him gibbering in indignation over the fact that he got his ass handed to him so thoroughly by people so obviously incompetent). they've been arguing for the past half hour— he hasn't been able to hear most of it between it being drowned out by the sound of the road and engine and the whole "barely conscious" thing. but what he can make out sounds like an argument about what to do with him, concern about evidence—
there's another skip as his vision greys out. when awareness fades in they aren't driving anymore. he's being dragged over rocks, and it smells like... salt? ... the sea. what in God's name...?
the answer to that comes when they throw him off of the cliff, still chained, into the water below. mercifully, he starts to pass out again before he can hit the water; it's not like he can do anything but sink. at least this way he won't be aware of it— ]
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He doesn't think about why he grips the stake in his teeth, ripping it out before gripping the intruder by the back of his neck and dragging him home. He doesn't bother to question his own motivations. He simply acts on impulse, and his impulse tonight is to at least put forth an effort in keeping this creature alive.
It isn't quite dawn when Chris awakes on a rocky beach, freezing water still lapping at the soles of his shoes. His hands are unbound, the stake removed, and a very naked man is laid out beside him on a silvery, spotted pelt, apparently napping.]
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which honestly leads to a few more moments of bleary staring, because. well. naked man on the beach next to him. after the initial moment of confusion, though, he thinks to sniff— obviously he's not human, so maybe he's—
—and that was a mistake, because he's bled out enough into the sea and the sand below him that the smell of it and something living drives all other thought out of his head as hunger knots up in his stomach, his vision going sharp as his eyes abruptly blaze red. he's starving, he's dying, and life is right there—
he's rolled over onto his hands and knees and flopped across the other man before he can even begin to register that he's lost control, much less wrestle it back. ]
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the bite doesn't hurt at all, anymore. ]
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...But going limp is a good move for Chris, and the stranger sits up, straddling him with shameless ease, drawing a forearm across his bloody mouth as he regards the vampire.]
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he just lies there with his neck still bared in submission as he's looked over, red eyes half-closed and mouth half open as he licks blood off of his own lips and fangs. his eyes shut as he swallows. ]
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Stop when I say.
[It was easy to miss how husky from disuse his voice is when he was only barking, but it's probably even easier to miss when he's placing a wrist against Chris's mouth. Priorities and all.]
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Good morning. ...Evening. Whichever.
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[ssssits beside him.]
Whichever. Hello.
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Did you have a good day...?
[ kind of wry. like, what else is he supposed to ask about here ]
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[settles a hand on Chris's chest, not too close to the wound, as if to steady him.]
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That's still better than it could be... mm. Your hands are warm.
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[h m m
abruptly pulls away and stands, but only so he can sit back down behind Chris and tug him into his lap, to press his whole warm front to his back and curl around him.]
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...Thanks. The cold doesn't actually bother me, but that's still nicer...
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Warm is nicer.
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...Kieran can't see his face like this. ]
...Mm. Ah... since you're there, can I...?
[ curling one hand around one of Kieran's wrists ]
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Thanks... it'll take me a bit. Changing how I bite isn't really a conscious decision, so I'll have to trick myself into it.
[ lifting Kieran's wrist to his lips— and instead of biting he just fits his mouth against it, tongue to his pulse ]
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