[Aeons, this guy just doesn't know when to go down. Or he's got some kind of weirdly high tolerance, which might not be entirely unexpected considering this planet is one of Qlipoth's. But he's pinned, and even high tolerances can only deal with so much. Now it's just a waiting game, but it's. It's really not a game that Sampo wants to be waiting for.]

[As he struggles, Sampo can hear the blood rush in his veins, the increasing pace of his heart. Can smell the iron-rich pulse of his jugular like someone else might smell a steak cooking in another room. It's mouth-watering, and he's so hungry. His teeth itch to get into this man's throat, to feel the brief resistance of muscle and skin before breaking through to the sustenance underneath; the body-hot flood onto his tongue and down his gullet.]

[He breathes, slow and controlled. The man smells delicious, but everyone kind of smells delicious to Sampo. It's really a bit of a problem.]

I don't want to be doing this either. [Aeons, he wishes that he didn't have to do this. What wouldn't he give to be able to go to a food stand and order something fried and terrible for him and be able to eat it without it coming back up.] But a guy's gotta eat, you know?

[Sampo sways in towards him a little, nose near his neck. He smells so good, strong and healthy. Maybe it's just because he's starving, maybe Gepard really is a whole snack, who knows. But right now, he might as well be a three-course meal set out in front of Sampo.] Just relax and it'll be over before you know it.