[He feels that pull at the back of his shirt, a bit of tension born of the surprise of being bitten. He expects it, and he hums a little against the warlock's throat as though to say, yes, he knows, but it'll recede soon.
And it does, of course. Winter won't feel much of anything except for maybe the pressure of his lips and tongue as he drinks and drinks deep. His lifeblood filling his mouth, flowing against his palate. He tastes...
(Ah, gods. He tastes divine. This was a very good idea.)
That said, he won't drink too much. Though he's peckish, he's also been fed well during his time in this hotel, and the animalistic urge to take too much has remained more dormant than usual.
...But, also, you know. He's not done yet. His free hand raises and splays against Winter's chest, part reassurance, and part just to feel his heartbeat.]
no subject
And it does, of course. Winter won't feel much of anything except for maybe the pressure of his lips and tongue as he drinks and drinks deep. His lifeblood filling his mouth, flowing against his palate. He tastes...
(Ah, gods. He tastes divine. This was a very good idea.)
That said, he won't drink too much. Though he's peckish, he's also been fed well during his time in this hotel, and the animalistic urge to take too much has remained more dormant than usual.
...But, also, you know. He's not done yet. His free hand raises and splays against Winter's chest, part reassurance, and part just to feel his heartbeat.]