( There’s an anxious pang in her gut, tension curling through her. Truthfully, she knows it isn’t anxiety. It’s anticipation and wanting, a different kind of adrenaline.
Reaching back, Sarissa catches one of his hands and brings it to her waist. His skin is cool to the touch, somehow steadying, though she’s trying to be the steady one. Offer reassurance, somehow.
(She undoes another button, so her shirt hangs off her shoulder.)
A moment or two might pass, but she isn’t too sure with her nervous hold of breathe. )
You’re full of shit.
( He’s hungry. She knows, the same way he can probably identify more things about her than she’d care to admit. That’s friendship, ain’t it?
Her pulse quickens, and her voice has a rasp to it. )
[ the blood rushing beneath her skin is so loud. kol has spent centuries giving into it, chasing the sound and making it sing louder like he's the conductor of the best orchestra in town. but he's changed, and he wants to change. control was never something he put any stock in until he was resurrected for the third time and found himself smack-dab in this shithole.
killing people is fun, but killing friends is far from it.
inhaling deeply through his nose, he finds it does nothing to quell his hunger. his eyes linger on her shoulder for longer than necessary, and he knows it's not just because of the desire for her blood. ]
I can kill you. I've killed many people before.
[ this is her last chance. in reality, it's his. he'll give in; giving into the siren call of blood is what he knows best. ]
( Sarissa’s free hand reaches to Kol, gentle but firm as she cups the back of his neck and guides him closer. )
I trust you.
( Yeah, he could, but she believes he won’t. And besides, worst case scenario is that she carks it, and on some level isn’t that something she’s been doing her whole life? Her belief nothing will happen to endanger her is sincere, but it’s convenient that her openness to death is, too. )
[ although those words should propel him forward eagerly, it gives him another moment of uncharacteristic pause. those are three words that he has rarely heard in his life, and he takes them to heart, not wanting to hurt her like he's hurt so many others.
it's with a deep inhale through his nose that he lets himself finally give in. he looks up at her, as if expecting her to take it all back, but then he feels his gums grow heavily and the skin beneath his eyes feel weighted down by the veins that rise to the surface. his warm brown eyes disappear beneath a black and blood-red coating, and he bows his head towards her neck, brushing his nose against her shoulder before grazing his teeth to her skin. his hand is on her bicep.
( It seems pretty on brand for them that there’s a pause, like they’re playing chicken or something. That would be easier, if it were a game and she weren’t listing back to press against his chest.
Her fingers at the back of his neck curl into his hair, not quite a tug - not yet. The suspense just keeps pulling tighter, feels like either Sarissa’s going to lose her ability to do something like playing it cool or the air’s about to bloody ignite. She wants him to be okay, but more than that she wants to give this to him, wants to feel the pressure of his bite. She wants them tangled together, honestly, but how to say that to someone when you’ve become so good at fucking up good things?
Her other hand idly hooks into his belt, an anchor point. )
[ it'd be easy to back out, but a lot harder to make it convincing. he can feel the heat of her blood through her skin and he can almost taste it thickly coat his tongue. he tries to control his breathing, but he pants a bit too loudly for his own ears.
when he bites down at the slope of her neck, it's the kindest and gentlest of sharp bites he's ever given. he can feel her blood dribble out from where he's pierced her skin and brush against het corner of his lips and tongue. he probably should've made her wear something that she wouldn't mind wrecking.
hand curling around her bicep, he keeps himself in check and ensures not to tighten his grip. his teeth sink in lower and he drags his tongue along her torn skin. ]
( A quiet gasp slips past her lips, and instinctively her hand tightens at his belt, tugging him closer. The sting and pressure, the warmth of his mouth on her neck— Sarissa moans, biting her lip. Her voice is raspy when the moan takes the sound of his name.
It’s hot as fuck and she feels like some sorta cliche because ain’t this just the kinda shit every dumbass bitch in a vampire romance novel gets swoony about? (But it’s not just this. It’s that smug sense of humour and his dickish comments and that he checks in on her even when he’s being an idiot.)
Her fingers slowly grasp at his hair, and the hand that was gripping his belt rubs lower, slow and deliberate over his cock. Impulse control ain’t ever been her strong suit. )
[ when kol thinks to pull away, her hand, tugging very dangerously and obviously at his belt, lowers to palm his cock. his teeth sink deeper into her skin, completely accidental, and he moans, her blood filling his mouth and coating his teeth and tongue.
it's hardly the first time he's bitten someone and gotten off while doing so. he's had sex while biting someone and ripping their neck wide open, but that had been in the before. now, it threatens to make him lose control, and he's not quite sure what control he's worried about slipping from his hands. his grip on his bloodlust is still a work in progress and his desire not to ruin a friendship appears to be a lot less solid than he had originally thought.
not that he cares. his mouth stays at her neck, tongue lapping at her skin.
one hand stays on her back, the notches of her spine imprinting into his palm, and the other falls from her shoulder to briefly skim her side. he's hardly a blushing bride; he roughly palms her breast through her shirt. ]
( That moan at her neck, the sharp pain of his teeth— Sarissa’s breath hitches. Pain, yeah, but also just because it feels good, and her back arches partly in response to the lance of pain, and to press her into the rough grasp of his hand. It feels beyond something she can articulate, something feral and instinctual.
Her hand drops from his neck, both instead working to unfasten his belt. )
Harder.
( Gasped out, as Kol’s belt is pulled from the loops and she tosses it aside. This feels like the crackle of electricity, the promise of rain after the oppressiveness of a building storm. )
[ some of his senses are there and active, and he knows, deep down, that he shouldn't press his teeth in any harder. whenever he does, he loses some semblance of control (something that feels like a foreign concept to him, a thousand-year-old adult). but he knows that he shouldn't be afraid. he's never been afraid. kol is formidable and fearless… yet he can feel the fear of humming someone he cares about warm his skin.
despite that, kol doesn't pull away. how can he? her blood sings to him just as loudly as her body does. he does nothing to resist or impede her at all; he doesn't do the sensible thing. his belt's gone and he only heeds her request (always a gentleman), teeth inching into her skin, warm torn flesh against his lips. her blood stains his mouth and chin and he laps at her. ]
( Probable outcomes: they never talk about this and shit is weird, they do talk about this and shit is weird, they don’t talk about this and go back to business as usual. She can dream, right?
The belt is tossed aside, and Sarissa’s breath is a long, slow rasp as Kol’s tongue moves over her skin, laps at her blood.
Her hand lingers at the button of his jeans, a cautious hesitations. She’s made some fucking assumptions already, just because of how they are, but—- )
You want more?
( Her voice is soft, hands resting at the button and zip of his jeans, and she tries to resist leaning back into him. Satisfaction felt laughable if they stopped here, but she’d live. Just about, anyway. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Reaching back, Sarissa catches one of his hands and brings it to her waist. His skin is cool to the touch, somehow steadying, though she’s trying to be the steady one.
Offer reassurance, somehow.
(She undoes another button, so her shirt hangs off her shoulder.)
A moment or two might pass, but she isn’t too sure with her nervous hold of breathe. )
You’re full of shit.
( He’s hungry. She knows, the same way he can probably identify more things about her than she’d care to admit. That’s friendship, ain’t it?
Her pulse quickens, and her voice has a rasp to it. )
I want you to.
no subject
killing people is fun, but killing friends is far from it.
inhaling deeply through his nose, he finds it does nothing to quell his hunger. his eyes linger on her shoulder for longer than necessary, and he knows it's not just because of the desire for her blood. ]
I can kill you. I've killed many people before.
[ this is her last chance. in reality, it's his. he'll give in; giving into the siren call of blood is what he knows best. ]
no subject
I trust you.
( Yeah, he could, but she believes he won’t. And besides, worst case scenario is that she carks it, and on some level isn’t that something she’s been doing her whole life? Her belief nothing will happen to endanger her is sincere, but it’s convenient that her openness to death is, too. )
Come on.
no subject
it's with a deep inhale through his nose that he lets himself finally give in. he looks up at her, as if expecting her to take it all back, but then he feels his gums grow heavily and the skin beneath his eyes feel weighted down by the veins that rise to the surface. his warm brown eyes disappear beneath a black and blood-red coating, and he bows his head towards her neck, brushing his nose against her shoulder before grazing his teeth to her skin. his hand is on her bicep.
kol did always like to play with his food. ]
no subject
Her fingers at the back of his neck curl into his hair, not quite a tug - not yet. The suspense just keeps pulling tighter, feels like either Sarissa’s going to lose her ability to do something like playing it cool or the air’s about to bloody ignite. She wants him to be okay, but more than that she wants to give this to him, wants to feel the pressure of his bite. She wants them tangled together, honestly, but how to say that to someone when you’ve become so good at fucking up good things?
Her other hand idly hooks into his belt, an anchor point. )
no subject
when he bites down at the slope of her neck, it's the kindest and gentlest of sharp bites he's ever given. he can feel her blood dribble out from where he's pierced her skin and brush against het corner of his lips and tongue. he probably should've made her wear something that she wouldn't mind wrecking.
hand curling around her bicep, he keeps himself in check and ensures not to tighten his grip. his teeth sink in lower and he drags his tongue along her torn skin. ]
no subject
Sarissa moans, biting her lip. Her voice is raspy when the moan takes the sound of his name.
It’s hot as fuck and she feels like some sorta cliche because ain’t this just the kinda shit every dumbass bitch in a vampire romance novel gets swoony about? (But it’s not just this. It’s that smug sense of humour and his dickish comments and that he checks in on her even when he’s being an idiot.)
Her fingers slowly grasp at his hair, and the hand that was gripping his belt rubs lower, slow and deliberate over his cock. Impulse control ain’t ever been her strong suit. )
no subject
it's hardly the first time he's bitten someone and gotten off while doing so. he's had sex while biting someone and ripping their neck wide open, but that had been in the before. now, it threatens to make him lose control, and he's not quite sure what control he's worried about slipping from his hands. his grip on his bloodlust is still a work in progress and his desire not to ruin a friendship appears to be a lot less solid than he had originally thought.
not that he cares. his mouth stays at her neck, tongue lapping at her skin.
one hand stays on her back, the notches of her spine imprinting into his palm, and the other falls from her shoulder to briefly skim her side. he's hardly a blushing bride; he roughly palms her breast through her shirt. ]
Iiiiii archived the tag like a fool
Her hand drops from his neck, both instead working to unfasten his belt. )
Harder.
( Gasped out, as Kol’s belt is pulled from the loops and she tosses it aside. This feels like the crackle of electricity, the promise of rain after the oppressiveness of a building storm. )
no subject
despite that, kol doesn't pull away. how can he? her blood sings to him just as loudly as her body does. he does nothing to resist or impede her at all; he doesn't do the sensible thing. his belt's gone and he only heeds her request (always a gentleman), teeth inching into her skin, warm torn flesh against his lips. her blood stains his mouth and chin and he laps at her. ]
no subject
The belt is tossed aside, and Sarissa’s breath is a long, slow rasp as Kol’s tongue moves over her skin, laps at her blood.
Her hand lingers at the button of his jeans, a cautious hesitations. She’s made some fucking assumptions already, just because of how they are, but—- )
You want more?
( Her voice is soft, hands resting at the button and zip of his jeans, and she tries to resist leaning back into him. Satisfaction felt laughable if they stopped here, but she’d live. Just about, anyway. )