[The thing about even only an okay-tasting meal is that after weeks of having nothing, it doesn't really matter much that it isn't the most spectacular thing that he's ever tasted. Gepard might as well be a gourmet class meal, because the first gulp of blood down his throat is like balm on a burn, soothing the gnawing ache of his hunger. As intoxicating as the golden liquor they serve at the Tavern, a distillate of Elation. There's a moment where Gepard's body goes stiff against him and he can feel that sudden tension, but it just... drains out of him, leaves him pliant and warm and yielding. Perfect prey, unresistant even with a predator's teeth in him.]
[Hands pull him closer, urging him on rather than away. Sampo can feel the resonance of Gepard's moan through his teeth, the sound vibrating in that lovely throat.]
[He gets his arms around Gepard and pulls him into them, drawing him close; Gepard is cradled in his embrace not entirely unlike the cover of some terrible half-Shield romance novel, but with the Captain as the damsel, the blond beauty trapped in the arms of a dark and handsome villain. And there's a not insignificant part of Sampo that wants to fulfill that role and drain Gepard of every last drop, until all of his warmth has been lost down his ravenous gullet.]
[One of Gepard's hands is tangled in his hair, and for a moment, it catches-- that brief sting is a sorely-needed reminder of what he's doing, of the fact that he's still drinking from Gepard even though he probably should have stopped by now. Sampo pulls back from him with a gasp like a man who's just surfaced from underwater. When he looks down at him, his eyes fall almost immediately back to his neck and the puncture marks there, the slowing slip of deep red from the wound.]
[He leans in again. Not to bite, but to drag his tongue over the blood that drips down his neck before it has the chance to ruin his collar.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-05-30 05:21 am (UTC)[Hands pull him closer, urging him on rather than away. Sampo can feel the resonance of Gepard's moan through his teeth, the sound vibrating in that lovely throat.]
[He gets his arms around Gepard and pulls him into them, drawing him close; Gepard is cradled in his embrace not entirely unlike the cover of some terrible half-Shield romance novel, but with the Captain as the damsel, the blond beauty trapped in the arms of a dark and handsome villain. And there's a not insignificant part of Sampo that wants to fulfill that role and drain Gepard of every last drop, until all of his warmth has been lost down his ravenous gullet.]
[One of Gepard's hands is tangled in his hair, and for a moment, it catches-- that brief sting is a sorely-needed reminder of what he's doing, of the fact that he's still drinking from Gepard even though he probably should have stopped by now. Sampo pulls back from him with a gasp like a man who's just surfaced from underwater. When he looks down at him, his eyes fall almost immediately back to his neck and the puncture marks there, the slowing slip of deep red from the wound.]
[He leans in again. Not to bite, but to drag his tongue over the blood that drips down his neck before it has the chance to ruin his collar.]