He can't tell if that's a good thing or just an entirely different problem that they're going to have to deal with here. ]
Restless energy... [ He repeats, lowkey glad that Dearka stays where he is. For all that this wave of his stubborn determination is helping, it doesn't mute the din in the back of his mind entirely that keeps trying to turn his attentions elsewhere.
Yzak moves to the edge of the couch, leaning back to half-sit on the armrest, one hand dropping to brace himself there properly. He tips his head down and focuses his gaze on the small pile of books on the sidetable in front of him. ]
Lycanthropy has just as many variations in their tales as vampirism does. And in a place like this ... [ His other hand comes up to run through his hair, frustrated, and his wings reflect the frustration by shaking a few times, somewhat like the tapping of one's fingers when they're nervous. ] who the hell knows if there's not something brand new going on that we've never even heard of before!
[ Yzak shuts his eyes. ] Does it feel ... aggressive? That restlessness. Like it's telling you you've got to do something to pacify it?
That's what this feels like to me. [ The hand in his hair comes down to his mouth, and Yzak again lightly thumbs against one of his fangs, his voice growing lower and more urgent as he continues on. ] Only it's sating a hunger so I don't starve. But if I keep ignoring it...
[Dearka pointedly continues to remain where he is, but his eyes follow Yzak as he moves. He's also still tense. He's leaning heavily against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, claws digging into his forearms. He's listening, but he's also growing increasingly more restless the longer he stands here.]
...If you keep ignoring it, you might lose control. That's what you're thinking, right?
[He doesn't wait for an answer. There's a bit of an impatient edge to his words, an irritability that's somewhat uncharacteristic.]
Yeah, that's how I feel too. I think staying out of the moonlight might be keeping me in check, but... All I want to do right now is get outside and run.
[And then hunt. And bite. And who the hell knows what else.]
[ He runs his thumb over his fang one more time, before he slides his hand over his mouth entirely. ]
And it feels disgusting. Worse yet is that we know from experience that we can't do anything to get rid of it and are just going to have to deal until it's over! [ And also from experience, it's afflictions and changes like these that Yzak deals the worst with; ones that threaten or outright take his autonomy.
His eyes move back to Dearka again. Run sounds nearly ... innocent when put so simply. But even Yzak knows that feeling most likely belies much more. Not just from his own passing knowledge of werewolves from legends, but the way that even Dearka's outline in the doorway is so much more ... pronounced, larger even though he's trying to remain normal and calm, like there's something deeper in there fighting to come out... ]
With the way nearly everybody else is acting right now, you're going to end up doing more than running if you go out there.
[ ... ]
Which will probably make you start to act worse, too. [ He continues on, more thinking outloud at this point. ] But what the hell are we supposed to do, just stay in here? That doesn't seem like the best idea, either. Perhaps wait until the sun comes up and see if things calm down enough by then...?
[Until the sun comes up... It hits Dearka then: will Yzak even be able to go outside during the daytime like this? He feels a knot tighten in his stomach at the thought. Vampires pretty famously don't do well in the daylight! But the very idea of their lives being disrupted in such a drastic way...
...Probably better not to point that out right now. The man's stressed out enough as is, and they have a long ways to go until daybreak... And some pretty powerful instincts to try and keep in check in the meantime.]
You're probably right about that. [That going outside will make it worse.] I guess I don't know for sure, but. It feels true. I'm more likely to launch myself out one of those windows than I am to make it to sunrise like this, though.
[He thinks in silence for a moment. The clear issue here, to his mind, is that they need to a find a way to deal with these instincts. Either by sating them directly, or by alleviating them some other way...
........Ah.
Dearka looks up again suddenly, his expression serious as he tries to catch Yzak's eye.]
[ Yzak's expression makes up for the fact that Dearka isn't a mind-reader, but he can probably nearly hear the mental record-scratch that Yzak's brain does at that suggestion. All other thoughts about what he just said there about launching himself out of a window are ... well, thrown out the window.
He sits straight up, shoulders squaring as he turns his head to give Dearka the most flabbergasted of looks. ]
What!?
[ There's a small flip in the pit of his stomach, something excited, something begging yes in response to the offer. ]
[That reaction is honestly so predictable, it actually brings a little smirk to Dearka's face. He laughs and dips his head slightly, gazing up and over at Yzak with one eye closed, one open.]
Why not? You're worried you won't be able to stop? Sounds to me like that'll be even more of a risk if you continue to put off feeding for too long... Might as well do it now, while you're still able to exert some control. Right?
[ Yzak pushes off of his hand braced on the armrest of the couch to stand, fully turning to face Dearka. He might as well be the werewolf with the hackles raised here, but his wings sway, extending and contracting as if adding that extra bit of gestured emphasis to what he says as he speaks. ]
What would something like that do to you? It could change you into something ... [ He gestures a hand at Dearka's form. ] else. Something worse, or more dangerous.
That's even assuming it can do anything if it doesn't just kill you! [ The way he argues, it's almost as if he's doing it with himself as much as Dearka, trying to keep down that want to leap at the offer. And now that he's raising his voice, those fangs of his are all too noticeable. ] And I'm not just talking about if I can't stop - because as long as I can feel even a shred of my own will I'm not just going to roll over and let myself be controlled by some animalistic compulsion anyway! But there are plenty of tales out there that tell of bites being poisonous, paralytic.
I obviously don't want to hurt or kill anybody, but least of all you!
[Yzak rattles off half a dozen perfectly legitimate and smart reasons for why they shouldn't try this, but. As he stands there, Dearka is gradually becoming more and more certain that he really wants to try it anyway.
The problem, really, is that he can't just easily brush off the very real fears that Yzak expresses. Dearka knows he would feel similarly, if their positions were reversed. Still: he can't just give up on this that easily. Not when he's convinced this might actually be the ideal solution to their problems...
He with a sigh, he finally pushes off the door frame and stands up to his full and proper height, arms over his chest. He's not trying to loom or anything, but he IS trying to show that he's very serious about this suggestion.]
...I know you don't. So... I'll open up a vein for you. You can feed on me without needing to use your fangs that way.
[ At first, Yzak grimaces at the very mention of opening up a vein because that is not something he would have ever banked on hearing in his entire life, much less in a fucked up context like this.
But the reality of the idea isn't nearly as bad as the initial image it invokes, especially not when Dearka sounds like he intends to be careful. Something small and painless to test the waters, because Yzak isn't even sure what a minute amount of blood is going to do to him, when he can hardly stand things as they are now.
He still has reservations, but he clearly untenses some, his wings folding in more and moving less erratically. Whether Dearka intends to look loomy or not, Yzak doesn't regard him with any sort of fear when he stares, head tipping slightly as he considers whether or not he wants to do this.
The wave of need that courses through him in that moment pushes him a little harder toward his answer. The answer Yzak wishes to choose because if it can help and put his mind in a clearer place, at least until morning, that will be a very good thing. The answer that hunger wants, which is a greedy, near lustful yes. That sensation though, feels a bit like nausea so he brings his hand up loosely to his mouth again, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. He exhales against his own palm with a muttered: ]
I do feel ... like I'm so god damned hungry...
[ Yzak swallows thick, and in his eyes it looks as though he's prepared to say yes. But before he does, he feels the need to add: ]
Variations in Greek legends say it can just as easily be saliva that does something like that. Not just fangs—
[While Yzak argues with himself and takes the time to breathe through this, Dearka waits as patiently as he can manage, given that there's an electric tension thrumming between the two of them. He hasn't quite managed to sort out just why he's so invested in getting a 'yes' from Yzak on this, beyond the obvious factor of concern for someone important to him. If Yzak decides he still doesn't want to try this, they'll just have to figure something else out. Right? It's not that big of a deal...
But just when it seems like he's going to get that 'yes' after all, Yzak starts fretting some more about Greek mythology or something. Dearka, whose ears had been pricked up excitedly for a moment, sighs, closes his eyes... Rubs his forehead for a moment... Lets Yzak continue without really listening...
...Until he can't deal the inaction anymore.
That's when he walks up, pushes Yzak's hand out of the way, and swoops in to shut him up with a kiss. If he's calculating right, hopefully he'll catch him with his mouth already open so he can slip him some tongue all the more easily :/]
[ Well, the kiss is going to prove that it is in fact safe to go the route Dearka just suggested, because as luck would have it, that prattling on about other vampiric lores and potentially poisonous saliva gets debunked in the process. A risky action, but luck is apparently on their side for that much at least.
Yzak perks up when Dearka closes the distance between them, cautious because how else could he be at a sudden movement in such a precariously mysterious time? But when he grabs his hand and leans in to kiss him, that already electric tension sparks even stronger. A common feeling of his regardless, because in reality every time he kisses Dearka he feels that - the flip his heart always makes, the way he feels every nerve in his body light up like something new is awakening in him - and it's a feeling that hasn't waned even if it's come to be something so familiar to him. (but also let's be real yzak is the one who's going to be 15 years into a marriage and still blushing when his feelings get too intense) A noise of surprise gets muffled in his throat as that hand pushed away grips at Dearka's wrist. For what feels like a very long moment, everything in Yzak's body language, including the way his wings perk straight up behind him, is rigid...
Until it can't help but erode when the kiss is held for a beat, two beats, and maybe it's because of the way his own body's changed, but the warmth of his tongue and the slightly different feeling Dearka's mouth feels against his with his own changes are little details he picks up on so much more easier right now. For that moment, it feels ... nice, as it always does, and oh that it could remain that way because how Yzak would love just let himself melt into it more than he's already begun to.
But he realizes how easily he could bite down on Dearka's tongue. On his lips. How easily he could tear into him and how part of him desperately wants to. And this close where he can feel Dearka's heartbeat as loudly as he can his own is near deafening and dangerous and— ]
[ The hand around Dearka's wrist tightens, and his other hand drops onto his shoulder. He pulls his head back to break the kiss with a low, needy exhale (maybe not quite the needy it would usually be, though) and push him back - push, not shove, so his hands remain where they are and he's still basically face to face with the other man as his own face scrunches up, flushed and scowling. ]
[It's certainly a strange experience kissing him like this, being so different and yet so familiar... But it's an experience Dearka thoroughly enjoys, and he feels the wild instincts churning inside of him flare up in excitement. He's not at all worried about Yzak taking a bite out of him, frankly.... He doesn't mean for this kiss to last too long, anyway. Long enough to shut Yzak up, and long enough to trace those sharp new fangs of his with his tongue. That's all. While they're locked together, he brings a hand up to cup the reluctant vampire's chin, gentle but firm, conveying that he's not completely throwing caution to the wind here.
Then they part. Yzak splutters, and despite the fact that he didn't exactly pull that stunt as a joke, Dearka snorts, and laughs. He gives Yzak a razor sharp grin in reply, allowing himself to be pushed away easily. He feels alive and overjoyed, contrary to Yzak's primary concern against them swapping spit.]
Yeah, I did say that, and we will. But think about it: if your spit WAS toxic to me, that would absolutely suck, y'know? [For a lot of different reasons.] So I decided to take the initiative and test things out, instead of wasting more time quibbling about it. That way if it DID kill me, at least I knew I'd go out doing what I love.
[He winks, and smirks obnoxiously, tail wagging behind him.]
That's the most ridiculous explanation I've ever heard!
[ And yet, the way Dearka can so easily just talk like that with that grin on his (weird hairy dog) face and without so much of a stutter or a shred of awkwardness; going out doing what he loved... ugh. it's enviable because those sentiments are tougher for Yzak to put out there. Enviable, and mentally Yzak attaches to those words because sometimes he wonders if Dearka realizes just how powerful remarks like that are, driving straight into his heart whether they have a playful, flirty edge to them or not.
Now that there's a small distance between them, he can really feel that lack of warmth so much prominently. ]
Really, talking so nonchalantly about dying like that...! [ He lets out one of those growly, overdramatic sighs, the sort he makes when he's shaking something off. Because it didn't happen, it's fine, and he wishes to keep his sights on the issues directly in front of them. ] It might well have happened if you'd kept that up for much longer. [ His eyes flick up under his bangs to look at him with the seriousness his tone takes on, the suggestiveness in them clear enough about what sort of urges passed in that moment. He holds Dearka's gaze, letting that shift back to more dire matters set in. ]
Let's do this, then. But on one condition.
[ He still feels the phantom touch of Dearkas hand to his chin, gentle but holding back a much stronger potential. Which is exactly where this thought sprouts from. ]
If I start doing anything weird or off, [ Anything they've spoken of; a loss of control, a step into danger or some life-threatening frenzy; Yzak says that with a heavy emphasis on the trust he has in Dearka to make a call of what and where that line is. ] then you stop it. Even if you need to break my jaw to do it.
[Despite his jokey attitude of a few moments ago, Dearka is listening and taking this very seriously. He doesn't look particularly pleased to be given an order of that nature (seriously? You want him to bust up your BEAUTIFUL FACE???), but. He also isn't saying 'no'.]
Eghh... I'd really prefer to do this without having to resort to such drastic measures, you know... But. [He sighs.] Yes sir, commander sir... Understood.
[Leaning back in, he takes ahold of Yzak's chin in one hand again, gently brushing his thumb along the jawbone in question. Their eyes lock. He murmurs a simple question:]
[ The look Yzak gives him at that first statement, one corner of his mouth slightly pulled up says it all; that goes without saying. Because he shares the same sentiment, he would also like his (beautiful) face to remain completely intact, here. However, as a soldier, he knows full well that he puts his entire self on the line, body and soul - emphasis on body in this case. And always in that mindset, for the sake of something important he doesn't second guess it, prepare to give what he must.
Dearka's heartbeat is like a drum in his ears, quick and rhythmic and drawing him in as if trying to put him under a spell. Feeling those fingers on his skin again, he glances down where he just makes out the tip of Dearka's thumb. ]
You're the one with the claws. [ Still holding onto his other wrist, he tugs to bring his hand in, turning it so it's facing palm up. ] Just don't overdo it— something small.
[ He stares at those veins on his wrist, unaware of the way his eyes dilate and his wings twitch, like a predator preparing to pounce. Because despite his great stubborn ability to fight it, fuck, he's so hungry. ]
[What's that thing they say about there being a thin line between fear and attraction...? Or something like that, anyway? The specifics don't matter, just the general idea is correct here. Dearka is watching the unfamiliar little predatory twitches and quirks that Yzak is displaying, and stirs up a very odd mix of emotions. It's sort of gratifying, to be wanted in such a desperate way; to have something that someone craves so badly, and to be able to provide it. But it also causes him pain to see this person he loves having to fight so desperately against such unnatural instincts.
Frowning, Dearka nods in affirmation.]
Alright. Let me see...
[Yzak's the genius when it comes to close quarters and hand to hand combat, but Dearka's obviously no slouch at it either. At the very least, he knows exactly where to avoid cutting, provided he doesn't want to cause a huge mess and possibly bleed out all over the place. He lets go of Yzak's chin and hovers hand over wrist for a moment, considering his options carefully.
Don't worry, partner... I'll make sure you're back in control soon enough.
He presses the point of a claw to his skin and draws a quick line without hesitation, grimacing only slightly from the pain. Immediately, bright red blood starts to well up along the cut.]
[ At least it's fitting, that Dearka is the one here providing the satisfaction that Yzak seeks, even if these wants disgust him and he wishes he could rip it all out of himself somehow. Because truly, he provides enough for Yzak already - usually more than needed, more that requested; sometimes, when Yzak lets his mind wander, perhaps more than he deserves. Support on the battlefield. Support as his right hand on the Jule Team (a job that comes with as much extra work as it does perks, when he occasionally has to translate and play the 'good cop' in some cases). Friendship off of the battlefield. An offered extra set of shoulders to burden the sins they share between one another when they become too heavy. Serving as an anchor so Yzak doesn't drift too far into work or his own overactive mind. Support and patience and a hard kick in his often stupid ass if needed. Needed a little more often in recent times when Dearka provided yet something else to him; acceptance and reciprocation of the feelings for him that had stewed in Yzak's heart and were pulled into the light when he'd thought they could remain safely and unpainfully tucked way when he had to cut them away and bury them once before. And let's be real, those were and probably often still are pretty messy feelings to deal with due to Yzak being Yzak. (but you try having ezalia as a mother and the burden of duty shoved onto you when your brain is already extremely hardwired into putting duty above even your own wants)
But there would be nobody else Yzak would want or trust enough in a position like this. Much less one that feels so vulnerable - because to him this feels like weakness, embarrassing, and it's about to get worse for him when Dearka cuts into his skin enough to draw blood. Because Yzak reacts nearly immediately. Dearka will feel the way that hand squeezes at his arm just under his wrist, his whole body tensing up for a fleeting second in some attempt to ensure he still has the ability to exert even a little control before he simply can't take it anymore. He leans down while lifting his wrist to his mouth with an iron grip and an uncharacteristicly wild desperation. The moment he feels the warmth of Dearka's blood touch his lips it's as though everything else around him simply doesn't exist anymore, because finally, finally he can quench this thirst. With a low, pleased groan in his throat, he tilts his head and parts his lips, sucking at the fresh wound to better draw the blood from it. ]
[There are a lot of things Dearka could say in response to all that, if Yzak were ever able to actually voice his feelings aloud without imploding. Not that Dearka would ever expect or demand that he do so; he knows how he is. He doesn't need him to voice appreciation like that, because he already trusts that it's there in all the unspoken words between them. Dearka is one of the few who understands just how deeply and fiercely this man cares, who truly knows how big and sensitive his heart really is underneath all the temper and bluster. For whatever reason, it's something he loves about him.
In any case, the truth is this: the majority of those points listed? Those are things that Yzak also does for Dearka in turn. That's why they work so well together; they balance one another, support one another. Dearka has plenty of his own shortcomings and he knows it, but in Yzak, he knows he has a fierce and loyal friend can and has literally put his life on the line for him. Maybe that's part of why he's so nonchalant about offering up his blood; he already knows Yzak would fight tooth and nail against any instinct to hurt him, with every fiber of his being.
That's... Also probably kind of why he's actually caught a bit off-guard by the speed and intensity with which Yzak moves in on him. The man's like a parched traveler who's been stranded in the desert, spotting water for the first time in days. It really drives home just how unbearable that hunger of his must have been to deal with, Dearka supposes...
Although on a related note: he's also not expecting Yzak's mouth to be so goddamn cold? He lets out a small shocked noise on contact, his hand tensing reflexively in Yzak's iron grip, a shiver running up his spine. What the actual fuck!? He is VERY WELL ACQUAINTED with what Yzak's mouth usually feels like against his skin, OK, and this is like goddamn ice by comparison.
At least Dearka's not the type to let something so minor dissuade him from providing this service. He gets over it quickly enough, settling back down and focusing in on monitoring Yzak's behavior like he was commanded to. Which is... Hmm.
Maybe his mind is just in the gutter, but... He can feel his cheeks growing hot from watching this. Looking down on Yzak while he sucks diligently at a part of his anatomy...? It's not that much of a stretch. Dearka feels a fluttering in the pit of his stomach, a deep desire fueled to greater heights by his own as of yet unattended monstrous instincts. He grits his fangs. Come on.... Focus, god dammit...!
With a shaky exhale, Dearka takes his free hand and reaches around to thread his fingers through Yzak's silky silver hair, stroking at it gently.]
There you go... Just take what you need...
[This isn't just a gesture of affection. This way, he's also positioned to yank the vampire back by the hair, should things start to look dicey...]
[ That icy feeling will melt away in due time - not just his mouth, but his touch and even to an extent, his pallor, once he's sated and properly upright again instead of hunched over like a starving animal devouring what he can like his life depends on it. (and, well, it actually kinda does) The more he drinks, the better, and warmer he'll feel - once awareness of those sensations truly reach him, that is. Right now, most of his senses are at the edges of his consciousness because this immediate gratification is that all-encompassing. True to his word and to Dearka's trust, however, part of his mind fights to remain at least as a whisper to call to him, to keep repeating to not lose himself to the feeling, to not escalate, to not hurt. (hurt, in that he is well aware that even without these changes to their physical and mental states, Dearka is as strong as him and can take a hell of a lot before he can actually be considered hurt)
As it happens, the offering Dearka gives is good - it's great, beyond great to Yzak in this moment. But the cut is perhaps a little too shallow, at least for the fervor with which Yzak drinks the blood from it. He presses his tongue flat against where he draws in an attempt to get more, just a little more. And like this Dearka's heartbeat might as well be his own with how loudly it pounds in his ears; from the contact, from his partner's rising excitement that challenges the heights Yzak's is at right now.
Feeling those fingers in his hair is a comfort that breaks through that hunger enough to appreciate, and to assure him that it's still okay. It's still okay, right? He doesn't feel any grip from that hand, doesn't feel any signal of resistance or warning. And Dearka's fingertips against his scalp feel like electricity that pulses straight through his body. Yzak pauses, just barely pulling his mouth away from skin to pull in a breath...
And without realizing it himself immediately, he grows impatient from that slightly-too-slow flow of blood, and when he returns to feeding he brings his fangs into it, biting down over the thin cut already there and puncturing the skin to better drain it. A second stroke of luck is that the fangs do not poison or paralyze! Whether that means they can't at all or Yzak is subconsciously focused on not doing that to Dearka so hard that he holds some control over it remains to be seen. With better access, he takes a couple of hearty gulps and while the bite might be a little alarming, it thankfully remains as such; a single bite with no sign of any rising ferocity.
Still, though, while Yzak isn't crossed over into any danger zones, he's still in a somewhat precarious place; his mind swimming as if drunk from this nourishment. So he may just need a little, nudge in the right direction lest he does simply keep going. ]
[Dearka's now getting to play a fun new guessing game called: 'Is my head fuzzy because I'm horny for this, or because I just let my vampire boyfriend suck out a bunch of my blood?' You'd think these would be two fairly distinct sensations that one would easily be able to tell the difference between, but he's honestly having a hard time right now.
Those fangs pierce Dearka's skin and he sucks in a sharp breath, fingers twitching involuntarily and tugging slightly against Yzak's scalp. The pain is next to nothing, but for a hot second, his heart leaps in fear, as he's concerned this might be a sign that things are starting to escalate...
Thankfully, that doesn't actually seem to be the case. And when that becomes clear, he relaxes again and goes back to watching the show, enraptured by the very sight. Call him a weirdo, but... He kind of can't help but feel some sort of perverse sense of pride that what he's able to offer up is apparently so goddamn delicious, Yzak can't seem to get enough of it fast enough. It's also good to see some color returning to his cheeks, and to feel the warmth returning to his mouth.
Interestingly... The ambient thrum of energy that Dearka's been feeling this whole time-- what's been fueling that instinct to burst outside and just go ham doing werewolf things-- seems to be lessening gradually with each drop of blood Yzak takes. Which is actually another part of what Dearka was hoping for when he suggested they try this. It's hard to be rowdy and restless when you've just lost a bunch of blood, after all. Question is: is that energy really gone...? Or has Dearka just found something specific to focus that energy on? Some base desire that he can see himself fulfilling, right here, in the very near future...?
...When he's given close to what he thinks he can safely give, he tries to rouse Yzak from his feeding frenzy. Gently, at first...]
Yzak... Yzak!
[Damn. Is he even listening? He's clearly not attacking, or even really escalating things... But he's not stopping, either. Those eyes are still full of predatory instinct, even if they look close to sated... And that busy little mouth of his still suckles urgently at Dearka's torn flesh. Dearka sighs, scowling to himself, and takes his opportunity to escalate instead. He curls his fingers, gathering up a proper fistful of Yzak's hair, and then yanks him backwards with more insistent force. At the same time, he pulls back on his bloodied wrist as well, trying to pull free of Yzak's tight grip.
This might ultimately hurt them both a little bit, but they've also both had worse. Plus, it's still a damn sight better than having to break Yzak's jaw.]
[ Perhaps there's also something to be said for Coordinator blood in general when it comes to how delectable it tastes. Not that Yzak does or would particularly want to shop around and go on any blood-tasting excursions to compare, especially when he's going to feel gross about this in a few short moments. But maybe it's also so savory to Yzak specifically because it's Dearka's and even with all of these changes to him, those feelings in his heart and the way his very being seems to draw toward him magnetically remain the same.
Dearka's voice hits his ears as if muffled, barely heard, but it's not enough so it's a good thing he snaps him out of it physically a moment later. ]
Aah—
[ Yzak's head cranes back and he gasps in a breath, fresh blood on his teeth and his tongue, the corner of his lip. His hold on Dearka's arm remains, but it eases when he pulls it away and his senses slowly return to him now that that obsessive, voracious focus is broken. He looks him in the eye, blinks, and there's for sure a better clarity in Yzak's blue eyes than there was before. Something closer to the norm for him. He looks down at the wrist he just fed on, seeing the two fresh, thin pinpricks that still well slightly with blood. This time, thankfully, he looks on at it and there's not much temptation in his gaze anymore. In fact, he looks a touch confused. ]
I bit you...? [ Half a question, half a realization. ]
Ah... Yeah. [Dearka's not gonna like, try and hide that from him. That'd be stupid. He jerks his shoulders in a slight shrug.] Just that once, though. Don't even worry about it...
[His words sound a bit clipped and breathy, his tone preoccupied, and it's not a huge mystery as to why: He is fully turned on, by this point, and he looks it, too. Yzak can go ahead and call him a freak for it if he wants to; he simply can't help it. That man looks hot with bloodied fangs, and Dea wanna smash.]
[ As ever, he appreciates the truth, even if it makes him grimace considering what it is this time. ] ... at least it didn't do anything to you. [ He mutters, low, accepting that much at least. But he's still clearly not happy! Because that means he didn't have as much control in the moment that he'd have liked!
And poor horny Dearka, because Yzak probably makes it worse with his movements as he shakes himself out of his own trance. He swallows, and then runs his tongue over one fang, across his teeth to the other, savoring what he can of the aftertaste. His brow is furrowed, though, his mind picking up on its usual speed and observation. ]
My head feels so much better. [ There's a good deal of relief in his voice, but it's tinged with a reluctance, as if he doesn't like admitting as much. Because it means he's going to need to do it again. He brings his hand up to the corner of his lip, swiping at the bit of blood there with the back of his finger and sucking it between his lips. The actions are driven by this new instinct so Yzak probably hardly realizes that he's doing it ... or how he looks doing it in front of his freak of a boyfriend. ] I can think clearly now.
[ And a clearer mind means clearer perception that's even better and beyond what he has as a Coordinator. He can still hear Dearka's heart beating in his chest - only now it seems to drown out the others he can sense from outside when someone wanders close enough by. It's as though feeding on him locked Yzak into some hyper specific focus on just him.
And that focus kicks in when he finally shifts his attention directly back on Dearka - and has every intent to use his recovered clarity to better figure out their next steps. Business as always, determination in his eyes.
But then sees the hot and bothered expression on his partner's face and breathlessness in his voice; things Yzak's for sure has become ... well accustomed to, to the point where he pegs it right away now. His face twists, nose crinkling and corners of his lips twitching downward, voice hitching up. ]
[Maybe that bite DID do something to him, actually. Maybe a vampire's fangs deliver some kind of aphrodisiac effect to their victims. That would explain a lot of this, right?
...Or, maybe he's just a horny freak. Who's to say, really?
Dearka sort of grunts and hums along in reply while Yzak talks, his focus mostly diverted to suffering and dying because of the lewd shit Yzak is doing with his fingers. Then he anticipates Yzak's reaction before he even manages to voice it: as soon as he clocks that look of flustered recognition on his face, he jolts up straight, pinning his ears back guiltily.]
H-hey, don't give me that! Put yourself in my shoes, I mean... If you could have seen the things you were doing with your mouth...!
[Growing flustered means he's wolfing out a bit more, gradually gaining more fur coverage.]
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He can't tell if that's a good thing or just an entirely different problem that they're going to have to deal with here. ]
Restless energy... [ He repeats, lowkey glad that Dearka stays where he is. For all that this wave of his stubborn determination is helping, it doesn't mute the din in the back of his mind entirely that keeps trying to turn his attentions elsewhere.
Yzak moves to the edge of the couch, leaning back to half-sit on the armrest, one hand dropping to brace himself there properly. He tips his head down and focuses his gaze on the small pile of books on the sidetable in front of him. ]
Lycanthropy has just as many variations in their tales as vampirism does. And in a place like this ... [ His other hand comes up to run through his hair, frustrated, and his wings reflect the frustration by shaking a few times, somewhat like the tapping of one's fingers when they're nervous. ] who the hell knows if there's not something brand new going on that we've never even heard of before!
[ Yzak shuts his eyes. ] Does it feel ... aggressive? That restlessness. Like it's telling you you've got to do something to pacify it?
That's what this feels like to me. [ The hand in his hair comes down to his mouth, and Yzak again lightly thumbs against one of his fangs, his voice growing lower and more urgent as he continues on. ] Only it's sating a hunger so I don't starve. But if I keep ignoring it...
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...If you keep ignoring it, you might lose control. That's what you're thinking, right?
[He doesn't wait for an answer. There's a bit of an impatient edge to his words, an irritability that's somewhat uncharacteristic.]
Yeah, that's how I feel too. I think staying out of the moonlight might be keeping me in check, but... All I want to do right now is get outside and run.
[And then hunt. And bite. And who the hell knows what else.]
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[ He runs his thumb over his fang one more time, before he slides his hand over his mouth entirely. ]
And it feels disgusting. Worse yet is that we know from experience that we can't do anything to get rid of it and are just going to have to deal until it's over! [ And also from experience, it's afflictions and changes like these that Yzak deals the worst with; ones that threaten or outright take his autonomy.
His eyes move back to Dearka again. Run sounds nearly ... innocent when put so simply. But even Yzak knows that feeling most likely belies much more. Not just from his own passing knowledge of werewolves from legends, but the way that even Dearka's outline in the doorway is so much more ... pronounced, larger even though he's trying to remain normal and calm, like there's something deeper in there fighting to come out... ]
With the way nearly everybody else is acting right now, you're going to end up doing more than running if you go out there.
[ ... ]
Which will probably make you start to act worse, too. [ He continues on, more thinking outloud at this point. ] But what the hell are we supposed to do, just stay in here? That doesn't seem like the best idea, either. Perhaps wait until the sun comes up and see if things calm down enough by then...?
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...Probably better not to point that out right now. The man's stressed out enough as is, and they have a long ways to go until daybreak... And some pretty powerful instincts to try and keep in check in the meantime.]
You're probably right about that. [That going outside will make it worse.] I guess I don't know for sure, but. It feels true. I'm more likely to launch myself out one of those windows than I am to make it to sunrise like this, though.
[He thinks in silence for a moment. The clear issue here, to his mind, is that they need to a find a way to deal with these instincts. Either by sating them directly, or by alleviating them some other way...
........Ah.
Dearka looks up again suddenly, his expression serious as he tries to catch Yzak's eye.]
...Yzak. I think you should feed on me.
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He sits straight up, shoulders squaring as he turns his head to give Dearka the most flabbergasted of looks. ]
What!?
[ There's a small flip in the pit of his stomach, something excited, something begging yes in response to the offer. ]
Are you out of your mind!? No!
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Why not? You're worried you won't be able to stop? Sounds to me like that'll be even more of a risk if you continue to put off feeding for too long... Might as well do it now, while you're still able to exert some control. Right?
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[ Yzak pushes off of his hand braced on the armrest of the couch to stand, fully turning to face Dearka. He might as well be the werewolf with the hackles raised here, but his wings sway, extending and contracting as if adding that extra bit of gestured emphasis to what he says as he speaks. ]
What would something like that do to you? It could change you into something ... [ He gestures a hand at Dearka's form. ] else. Something worse, or more dangerous.
That's even assuming it can do anything if it doesn't just kill you! [ The way he argues, it's almost as if he's doing it with himself as much as Dearka, trying to keep down that want to leap at the offer. And now that he's raising his voice, those fangs of his are all too noticeable. ] And I'm not just talking about if I can't stop - because as long as I can feel even a shred of my own will I'm not just going to roll over and let myself be controlled by some animalistic compulsion anyway! But there are plenty of tales out there that tell of bites being poisonous, paralytic.
I obviously don't want to hurt or kill anybody, but least of all you!
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The problem, really, is that he can't just easily brush off the very real fears that Yzak expresses. Dearka knows he would feel similarly, if their positions were reversed. Still: he can't just give up on this that easily. Not when he's convinced this might actually be the ideal solution to their problems...
He with a sigh, he finally pushes off the door frame and stands up to his full and proper height, arms over his chest. He's not trying to loom or anything, but he IS trying to show that he's very serious about this suggestion.]
...I know you don't. So... I'll open up a vein for you. You can feed on me without needing to use your fangs that way.
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But the reality of the idea isn't nearly as bad as the initial image it invokes, especially not when Dearka sounds like he intends to be careful. Something small and painless to test the waters, because Yzak isn't even sure what a minute amount of blood is going to do to him, when he can hardly stand things as they are now.
He still has reservations, but he clearly untenses some, his wings folding in more and moving less erratically. Whether Dearka intends to look loomy or not, Yzak doesn't regard him with any sort of fear when he stares, head tipping slightly as he considers whether or not he wants to do this.
The wave of need that courses through him in that moment pushes him a little harder toward his answer. The answer Yzak wishes to choose because if it can help and put his mind in a clearer place, at least until morning, that will be a very good thing. The answer that hunger wants, which is a greedy, near lustful yes. That sensation though, feels a bit like nausea so he brings his hand up loosely to his mouth again, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. He exhales against his own palm with a muttered: ]
I do feel ... like I'm so god damned hungry...
[ Yzak swallows thick, and in his eyes it looks as though he's prepared to say yes. But before he does, he feels the need to add: ]
Variations in Greek legends say it can just as easily be saliva that does something like that. Not just fangs—
i don't have any smooching icons so you get this,
But just when it seems like he's going to get that 'yes' after all, Yzak starts fretting some more about Greek mythology or something. Dearka, whose ears had been pricked up excitedly for a moment, sighs, closes his eyes... Rubs his forehead for a moment... Lets Yzak continue without really listening...
...Until he can't deal the inaction anymore.
That's when he walks up, pushes Yzak's hand out of the way, and swoops in to shut him up with a kiss. If he's calculating right, hopefully he'll catch him with his mouth already open so he can slip him some tongue all the more easily :/]
this, what this man is attracted to... also 1/2
Yzak perks up when Dearka closes the distance between them, cautious because how else could he be at a sudden movement in such a precariously mysterious time? But when he grabs his hand and leans in to kiss him, that already electric tension sparks even stronger. A common feeling of his regardless, because in reality every time he kisses Dearka he feels that - the flip his heart always makes, the way he feels every nerve in his body light up like something new is awakening in him - and it's a feeling that hasn't waned even if it's come to be something so familiar to him. (but also let's be real yzak is the one who's going to be 15 years into a marriage and still blushing when his feelings get too intense) A noise of surprise gets muffled in his throat as that hand pushed away grips at Dearka's wrist. For what feels like a very long moment, everything in Yzak's body language, including the way his wings perk straight up behind him, is rigid...
Until it can't help but erode when the kiss is held for a beat, two beats, and maybe it's because of the way his own body's changed, but the warmth of his tongue and the slightly different feeling Dearka's mouth feels against his with his own changes are little details he picks up on so much more easier right now. For that moment, it feels ... nice, as it always does, and oh that it could remain that way because how Yzak would love just let himself melt into it more than he's already begun to.
But he realizes how easily he could bite down on Dearka's tongue. On his lips. How easily he could tear into him and how part of him desperately wants to. And this close where he can feel Dearka's heartbeat as loudly as he can his own is near deafening and dangerous and— ]
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W-weren't we going about this carefully!?
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Then they part. Yzak splutters, and despite the fact that he didn't exactly pull that stunt as a joke, Dearka snorts, and laughs. He gives Yzak a razor sharp grin in reply, allowing himself to be pushed away easily. He feels alive and overjoyed, contrary to Yzak's primary concern against them swapping spit.]
Yeah, I did say that, and we will. But think about it: if your spit WAS toxic to me, that would absolutely suck, y'know? [For a lot of different reasons.] So I decided to take the initiative and test things out, instead of wasting more time quibbling about it. That way if it DID kill me, at least I knew I'd go out doing what I love.
[He winks, and smirks obnoxiously, tail wagging behind him.]
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[ And yet, the way Dearka can so easily just talk like that with that grin on his (weird hairy dog) face and without so much of a stutter or a shred of awkwardness; going out doing what he loved... ugh. it's enviable because those sentiments are tougher for Yzak to put out there. Enviable, and mentally Yzak attaches to those words because sometimes he wonders if Dearka realizes just how powerful remarks like that are, driving straight into his heart whether they have a playful, flirty edge to them or not.
Now that there's a small distance between them, he can really feel that lack of warmth so much prominently. ]
Really, talking so nonchalantly about dying like that...! [ He lets out one of those growly, overdramatic sighs, the sort he makes when he's shaking something off. Because it didn't happen, it's fine, and he wishes to keep his sights on the issues directly in front of them. ] It might well have happened if you'd kept that up for much longer. [ His eyes flick up under his bangs to look at him with the seriousness his tone takes on, the suggestiveness in them clear enough about what sort of urges passed in that moment. He holds Dearka's gaze, letting that shift back to more dire matters set in. ]
Let's do this, then. But on one condition.
[ He still feels the phantom touch of Dearkas hand to his chin, gentle but holding back a much stronger potential. Which is exactly where this thought sprouts from. ]
If I start doing anything weird or off, [ Anything they've spoken of; a loss of control, a step into danger or some life-threatening frenzy; Yzak says that with a heavy emphasis on the trust he has in Dearka to make a call of what and where that line is. ] then you stop it. Even if you need to break my jaw to do it.
That is an order.
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Eghh... I'd really prefer to do this without having to resort to such drastic measures, you know... But. [He sighs.] Yes sir, commander sir... Understood.
[Leaning back in, he takes ahold of Yzak's chin in one hand again, gently brushing his thumb along the jawbone in question. Their eyes lock. He murmurs a simple question:]
Now... Where do you want to begin?
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Dearka's heartbeat is like a drum in his ears, quick and rhythmic and drawing him in as if trying to put him under a spell. Feeling those fingers on his skin again, he glances down where he just makes out the tip of Dearka's thumb. ]
You're the one with the claws. [ Still holding onto his other wrist, he tugs to bring his hand in, turning it so it's facing palm up. ] Just don't overdo it— something small.
[ He stares at those veins on his wrist, unaware of the way his eyes dilate and his wings twitch, like a predator preparing to pounce. Because despite his great stubborn ability to fight it, fuck, he's so hungry. ]
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Frowning, Dearka nods in affirmation.]
Alright. Let me see...
[Yzak's the genius when it comes to close quarters and hand to hand combat, but Dearka's obviously no slouch at it either. At the very least, he knows exactly where to avoid cutting, provided he doesn't want to cause a huge mess and possibly bleed out all over the place. He lets go of Yzak's chin and hovers hand over wrist for a moment, considering his options carefully.
Don't worry, partner... I'll make sure you're back in control soon enough.
He presses the point of a claw to his skin and draws a quick line without hesitation, grimacing only slightly from the pain. Immediately, bright red blood starts to well up along the cut.]
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But there would be nobody else Yzak would want or trust enough in a position like this. Much less one that feels so vulnerable - because to him this feels like weakness, embarrassing, and it's about to get worse for him when Dearka cuts into his skin enough to draw blood. Because Yzak reacts nearly immediately. Dearka will feel the way that hand squeezes at his arm just under his wrist, his whole body tensing up for a fleeting second in some attempt to ensure he still has the ability to exert even a little control before he simply can't take it anymore. He leans down while lifting his wrist to his mouth with an iron grip and an uncharacteristicly wild desperation. The moment he feels the warmth of Dearka's blood touch his lips it's as though everything else around him simply doesn't exist anymore, because finally, finally he can quench this thirst. With a low, pleased groan in his throat, he tilts his head and parts his lips, sucking at the fresh wound to better draw the blood from it. ]
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In any case, the truth is this: the majority of those points listed? Those are things that Yzak also does for Dearka in turn. That's why they work so well together; they balance one another, support one another. Dearka has plenty of his own shortcomings and he knows it, but in Yzak, he knows he has a fierce and loyal friend can and has literally put his life on the line for him. Maybe that's part of why he's so nonchalant about offering up his blood; he already knows Yzak would fight tooth and nail against any instinct to hurt him, with every fiber of his being.
That's... Also probably kind of why he's actually caught a bit off-guard by the speed and intensity with which Yzak moves in on him. The man's like a parched traveler who's been stranded in the desert, spotting water for the first time in days. It really drives home just how unbearable that hunger of his must have been to deal with, Dearka supposes...
Although on a related note: he's also not expecting Yzak's mouth to be so goddamn cold? He lets out a small shocked noise on contact, his hand tensing reflexively in Yzak's iron grip, a shiver running up his spine. What the actual fuck!? He is VERY WELL ACQUAINTED with what Yzak's mouth usually feels like against his skin, OK, and this is like goddamn ice by comparison.
At least Dearka's not the type to let something so minor dissuade him from providing this service. He gets over it quickly enough, settling back down and focusing in on monitoring Yzak's behavior like he was commanded to. Which is... Hmm.
Maybe his mind is just in the gutter, but... He can feel his cheeks growing hot from watching this. Looking down on Yzak while he sucks diligently at a part of his anatomy...? It's not that much of a stretch. Dearka feels a fluttering in the pit of his stomach, a deep desire fueled to greater heights by his own as of yet unattended monstrous instincts. He grits his fangs. Come on.... Focus, god dammit...!
With a shaky exhale, Dearka takes his free hand and reaches around to thread his fingers through Yzak's silky silver hair, stroking at it gently.]
There you go... Just take what you need...
[This isn't just a gesture of affection. This way, he's also positioned to yank the vampire back by the hair, should things start to look dicey...]
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As it happens, the offering Dearka gives is good - it's great, beyond great to Yzak in this moment. But the cut is perhaps a little too shallow, at least for the fervor with which Yzak drinks the blood from it. He presses his tongue flat against where he draws in an attempt to get more, just a little more. And like this Dearka's heartbeat might as well be his own with how loudly it pounds in his ears; from the contact, from his partner's rising excitement that challenges the heights Yzak's is at right now.
Feeling those fingers in his hair is a comfort that breaks through that hunger enough to appreciate, and to assure him that it's still okay. It's still okay, right? He doesn't feel any grip from that hand, doesn't feel any signal of resistance or warning. And Dearka's fingertips against his scalp feel like electricity that pulses straight through his body. Yzak pauses, just barely pulling his mouth away from skin to pull in a breath...
And without realizing it himself immediately, he grows impatient from that slightly-too-slow flow of blood, and when he returns to feeding he brings his fangs into it, biting down over the thin cut already there and puncturing the skin to better drain it. A second stroke of luck is that the fangs do not poison or paralyze! Whether that means they can't at all or Yzak is subconsciously focused on not doing that to Dearka so hard that he holds some control over it remains to be seen. With better access, he takes a couple of hearty gulps and while the bite might be a little alarming, it thankfully remains as such; a single bite with no sign of any rising ferocity.
Still, though, while Yzak isn't crossed over into any danger zones, he's still in a somewhat precarious place; his mind swimming as if drunk from this nourishment. So he may just need a little, nudge in the right direction lest he does simply keep going. ]
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Those fangs pierce Dearka's skin and he sucks in a sharp breath, fingers twitching involuntarily and tugging slightly against Yzak's scalp. The pain is next to nothing, but for a hot second, his heart leaps in fear, as he's concerned this might be a sign that things are starting to escalate...
Thankfully, that doesn't actually seem to be the case. And when that becomes clear, he relaxes again and goes back to watching the show, enraptured by the very sight. Call him a weirdo, but... He kind of can't help but feel some sort of perverse sense of pride that what he's able to offer up is apparently so goddamn delicious, Yzak can't seem to get enough of it fast enough. It's also good to see some color returning to his cheeks, and to feel the warmth returning to his mouth.
Interestingly... The ambient thrum of energy that Dearka's been feeling this whole time-- what's been fueling that instinct to burst outside and just go ham doing werewolf things-- seems to be lessening gradually with each drop of blood Yzak takes. Which is actually another part of what Dearka was hoping for when he suggested they try this. It's hard to be rowdy and restless when you've just lost a bunch of blood, after all. Question is: is that energy really gone...? Or has Dearka just found something specific to focus that energy on? Some base desire that he can see himself fulfilling, right here, in the very near future...?
...When he's given close to what he thinks he can safely give, he tries to rouse Yzak from his feeding frenzy. Gently, at first...]
Yzak... Yzak!
[Damn. Is he even listening? He's clearly not attacking, or even really escalating things... But he's not stopping, either. Those eyes are still full of predatory instinct, even if they look close to sated... And that busy little mouth of his still suckles urgently at Dearka's torn flesh. Dearka sighs, scowling to himself, and takes his opportunity to escalate instead. He curls his fingers, gathering up a proper fistful of Yzak's hair, and then yanks him backwards with more insistent force. At the same time, he pulls back on his bloodied wrist as well, trying to pull free of Yzak's tight grip.
This might ultimately hurt them both a little bit, but they've also both had worse. Plus, it's still a damn sight better than having to break Yzak's jaw.]
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Dearka's voice hits his ears as if muffled, barely heard, but it's not enough so it's a good thing he snaps him out of it physically a moment later. ]
Aah—
[ Yzak's head cranes back and he gasps in a breath, fresh blood on his teeth and his tongue, the corner of his lip. His hold on Dearka's arm remains, but it eases when he pulls it away and his senses slowly return to him now that that obsessive, voracious focus is broken. He looks him in the eye, blinks, and there's for sure a better clarity in Yzak's blue eyes than there was before. Something closer to the norm for him. He looks down at the wrist he just fed on, seeing the two fresh, thin pinpricks that still well slightly with blood. This time, thankfully, he looks on at it and there's not much temptation in his gaze anymore. In fact, he looks a touch confused. ]
I bit you...? [ Half a question, half a realization. ]
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[His words sound a bit clipped and breathy, his tone preoccupied, and it's not a huge mystery as to why: He is fully turned on, by this point, and he looks it, too. Yzak can go ahead and call him a freak for it if he wants to; he simply can't help it. That man looks hot with bloodied fangs, and Dea wanna smash.]
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And poor horny Dearka, because Yzak probably makes it worse with his movements as he shakes himself out of his own trance. He swallows, and then runs his tongue over one fang, across his teeth to the other, savoring what he can of the aftertaste. His brow is furrowed, though, his mind picking up on its usual speed and observation. ]
My head feels so much better. [ There's a good deal of relief in his voice, but it's tinged with a reluctance, as if he doesn't like admitting as much. Because it means he's going to need to do it again. He brings his hand up to the corner of his lip, swiping at the bit of blood there with the back of his finger and sucking it between his lips. The actions are driven by this new instinct so Yzak probably hardly realizes that he's doing it ... or how he looks doing it in front of his freak of a boyfriend. ] I can think clearly now.
[ And a clearer mind means clearer perception that's even better and beyond what he has as a Coordinator. He can still hear Dearka's heart beating in his chest - only now it seems to drown out the others he can sense from outside when someone wanders close enough by. It's as though feeding on him locked Yzak into some hyper specific focus on just him.
And that focus kicks in when he finally shifts his attention directly back on Dearka - and has every intent to use his recovered clarity to better figure out their next steps. Business as always, determination in his eyes.
But then sees the hot and bothered expression on his partner's face and breathlessness in his voice; things Yzak's for sure has become ... well accustomed to, to the point where he pegs it right away now. His face twists, nose crinkling and corners of his lips twitching downward, voice hitching up. ]
You - don't tell me you liked that!
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...Or, maybe he's just a horny freak. Who's to say, really?
Dearka sort of grunts and hums along in reply while Yzak talks, his focus mostly diverted to suffering and dying because of the lewd shit Yzak is doing with his fingers. Then he anticipates Yzak's reaction before he even manages to voice it: as soon as he clocks that look of flustered recognition on his face, he jolts up straight, pinning his ears back guiltily.]
H-hey, don't give me that! Put yourself in my shoes, I mean... If you could have seen the things you were doing with your mouth...!
[Growing flustered means he's wolfing out a bit more, gradually gaining more fur coverage.]
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