Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Author's Note: Death Eating in all its glory.
Drops of crimson flowing languidly down a cut, melting into the puddle at his feet. Harsh breathing, punctuated with hisses, can be heard through the room as he breathes, trying to get past his disorientation. Grey eyes darting wildly left and right, as if he's scared of people seeing him in this state.
He looks horrified. Hands reach down to touch the blood, one hand coming away all red and dripping, the other getting inside the corpse's wound. Soft and unsmooth to the touch, her insides are still warm. Reaching deeper; a gurgling sound can be heard as he pushes into her skin, tearing within. He finds it, and a grimace passes over his lips as they twist themselves into a strained smile.
Eyes are a fraction bigger. He finds it. He pulls the bullet out; sticky substance stuck on his fingers, skin separating to allow him room to move. The bullet is safely out now, he puts it into his pocket and takes a step back to admire his work. Her arms shouldn't be spread like that, he thinks fleetingly. He examines his hands in the moonlight streaming in from from the window at his back.
He's pushing his tongue out now, gently; tentatively licks at his hand, the metallic taste of life erasing his last misgivings. It tastes good. He kneels down in front of her spent, spoiled body and applies his mout to the wound, sucking deeply. When he's done, he pulls away, regarding her with a sleepy look on his face. Death never tasted so heavenly.