Prompt #78: Starvation

Rating: PG-13

Grogginess. Like wool over the ears, or blood laced with morphine. He hadn't felt grogginess for so long it took him a moment to place it. Small hands were gripping his arm, and he flinched away out of habit. He gazed down at his limbs like they were no longer his own, watched them twitch independent from his mind. Then the dull background throb pierced through the fog of his head; he gritted his teeth against the lancing pain. He blinked hard, slowly focussing on the humanoid figure crouched beside him.

"…all right?"

Cool fingertips smoothed across his throat – his heart leapt as his stark vulnerability registered for the briefest moment – before transversing his trachea, following the angles of his neck to dip into the skin above his carotid pulse. There was pressure on his leg, and he jerked as the pain stripped his nerve endings raw. Undoubtedly female. She'd dug her knee into his thigh, probably upstream of the bleed, pressing her weight over him. He was stunned by his degree of immobility.

"…ey, hey, you've lost a lot of blood."

Yes, he could feel that, the euphoria of being drained. Judging by the location, perhaps a severed femoral, if the pain was any indication. Wet cold clinging material. The tang of blood. A victim of his biology, he could already feel the uncomfortable pressure in his gums as his canines lengthened. Already, the baser instincts were kicking in, the heightened senses, the slowing of the heartbeat and that predator calm stealing over his body. He could feel the burning, healing sensation of his artery stitching itself back into one piece.

She leaned in close, busying herself with a tourniquet or something. The smell of her, saturated with his scent, filled him, her fresh, live-ness. Some hint of perfume, the rushing of blood. Saliva flooded his mouth. Half conscious, he felt his hand close around her wrist, easily encircling it, skin soft like nothing he could remember and her bones like fine china. The throbbing of her pulse under his fingers, her intake of breath in his ears as he flipped them over so that it was his body pressing them down. He found the jugular, teeth puncturing skin and muscle, the heat of her spurting against the back of his throat. He gulped her down, that rare, clean, sweet little thing with blood like ambrosia. Her nubile body might have even struggled beneath him for a little before the endorphins overwhelmed her, but he'd discovered long ago that he could really only concentrate on one thing at a time, and the taste of her was just far, far too distracting. Maybe he'll even keep this one. He despised country life, but it was getting harder and harder to find a decent feed in the city these days.

Her pulse fluttered in his hands and he could hardly bring himself to stop, withdrawing carefully, reluctantly, sealing the wound shut to leave two small, unmistakable bruises. She lay like a pinned butterfly, stiff and pale on the ground, hair unbound and staining the concrete bright like yellow brass. Body sated and heavy, feeling the strength seep back into his limbs, he brushed a finger over those little marks on her neck, and kissed her gently. His mind was made up.

I realise it's a little vague, but this one is meant to be Mina and Kunzite.

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