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[M] Busted || Stace & Kao ||

Kāo · 50 · 4001

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Offline Kāo

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Just as he had foretold to Nathaniel, Ira didn’t gain much enjoyment from visiting the zoo or the amusement park. However, someone like Nathaniel—someone who was not yet familiar with his tells of distaste and repulsion and general malaise—was sure to assume he was having the time of his life. In part, it was true; Ira had rarely felt more fulfilled than he did that day as he bore witness to Nathaniel experiencing the world with fresh eyes. He was childlike in his wonderment. It moved Ira deeply, and strangely (in the case of the found caterpillar,) almost to tears.

Yet passing through islands  of caged animals evoked a sort of sorrowful restlessness in Ira. It was the kind of feeling he imagined an aged veteran might encounter while passing unmarked tombstones or gazing at a memorial monument; at once awestruck, and grieved, and overwhelmed by an inexplicable camaraderie, he believed it might be possible, on some level, that he connected to the spirits and minds of these natural animals. He knew what freedom ought to be. These so-called habitats (however impeccable their design,) were no more conducive to the mental health of these animals than it would be to inform Ira he’d lost his ability to shift into his alternative form. To never again run with a zephyr at his back, to never taste the air in colors his human olfactory sense could not begin to fantasize. To become a four-legged wanderer of boundless territory was as much a part of Ira as the vast Sahara was to these humble ostriches.

He strode onward and maintained an easy smile, constantly vigilant for the silent, staticky signal that might tickle the back of his mind like the whispers of a siren carried to a lonely sailor on every crest of the sea against his vessel. He hadn’t the faintest idea what would happen if he were to discover a fellow man had been captured and caged. It would involve a grand display of mutiny, certainly, and not a few calls to the local news station as onlookers gasped in horror, watching him descend into the lion’s pit as sure-footedly as Daniel of the Old Testament. He voiced a grim chuckle at the thought and was glad Nathaniel’s preoccupied nature kept him from noticing the laugh.

The next leg of their adventure was no less distasteful to him in the beginning, but it was a matter of physical rather than emotional discomfort, now. Ira simply didn’t possess the iron stomach that the gargantuan, heart-dropping ride to which Nathaniel had become so endeared demanded. The rattle of the wheels, the hum of the machinery beneath his (tightened) rear end on that long upward climb, even the momentary dreamlike peace at the very zenith of the track left his throat dry from dreadful anticipation. Still, Ira accompanied his vibrant new companion through every drop and twist with arms spread into the air in seeming abandon—twice. He was glad he had only taken a sip from Nathaniel’s neck that afternoon; the blood had digested into his system quickly and now it was nearly impossible for him to vomit. Yet he felt rather green in the gills and weak in the knees as they stumbled off the ride’s platform, laughing, plunged into the particolored night.

If the day had been living poetry, the fresh fall of evening was certainly a ballad. Ira could not have begun to express his delight at this turning of the tables; Nathaniel was now the one to gleefully tote him along, leading the way in a frenzied sprint through this kaleidoscopic dreamland (which, feet now firmly on the ground, Ira began to appreciate a little more willingly.)

Ira won him several prizes. He didn’t bother with any activities limited to puny stuffed animals, instead preferring to spend his time and considerable strength on ringing bells and tossing basketballs to shower Nathaniel with souvenir shirts, a baseball cap, and a backpack to commemorate his return to a life drenched in sunshine. He did, in the end, deem a giant shark to be a worthy gift as well.

As they rode the palpable flow of excitement from one end of the park clear to the other, Ira felt a quiet unease settle over him in spite of his joy. They existed almost harmoniously.

The mounting sensation thrummed in his chest like the wings of a honeybee: at once petite and venomous. As Nathaniel leaned against him, striding through the park in the same rhythm as Ira, with almost the exact same length to their gait, the feeling multiplied from one bee to three. Then five. Then eleven. Twenty, fifty—and now a hundred and six. In another hour, or two hours, or not very long after that, the evening would come to a close. And that hive in his chest, that fear, seemed to whisper inimically, ‘don’t lose him again or it will be your last.’

Nathaniel spoke up just then, seeming to answer that sting of fear with cool reassurances. “I want to do this again,” is what he said, and Ira felt the bees become placidly groggy, as though they’d been engulfed in a plume of woody exhaust from the nozzle of a beekeeper’s smoker.

“I must admit, your concept of fun surely makes a man grateful to be alive,” Ira told him with a chuckle. “Positively bracing.”

He almost regretted that he hadn’t been born with some form of heart malformation that carried over into vampirism as a worthy excuse to skirt a third go of the enormous ride towards which they ambled arm in arm. The ominous black scaffolding silhouette of The Boss cut into the light-polluted mauve sky above them and Ira grimly compared it to the Biblical depiction of the Leviathan.

He and Nathaniel were both distracted when the collision took place. Ira, having carried the shark and the backpack and its internal treasures throughout the park for Nathaniel, now dropped the bag from his arm as a result of the jostling bump that rippled from Nathaniel’s body to his own. He bent readily at the waist and scooped the bag off the ground; he brushed it off, looked it over, and threaded it back onto his arms more securely this time.

As he straightened again, Ira leveled his gaze with the rude man first, rolling his shoulders back spitefully. Neither he nor Nathaniel were queer fuckers.

“Did you get any of his blood on you, sweetheart? He might have AIDS,” he stage-whispered to Nathaniel, his tone callous. Other than his catty comment, Ira didn’t give the scrumptious scent of the man’s blood much thought. He was a well-fed vampire, metaphorically fat on the decadent blood of his theatre troupe. Unaware of Nathaniel’s lack of impulse control, Ira stood and waited for the horrendous man and his less horrendous girlfriend to retreat. But as Nathaniel continued to linger, the sense of tension in the air moved Ira to step forward and grasp his shoulder.

“You said your apologies. You’ve done your part.” He tightened his grip and attempted to physically remove Nathaniel from the proximity of the man and his bloody knee, wary of a brooding fight.


« Last Edit: September 09, 2020, 09:16:45 PM by Kāo »


Offline Stace

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It took Ira's grip on him for Nathaniel to come back down to Earth, and when he turned back to look him in the eyes, he put on as big of a smile as ever. "You're right. It's out of my hands..." he glanced Ira's face over and with a peek down between them, placed his hand in Ira's, lacing their fingers together.

"Let's ride the ferris wheel next," he said, redirecting Ira's attention to the top of the lit structure in the next zone over from them. It would take them back toward the exit, and it was bound to allow them to behold another beautiful view from high up. "I'm getting the sense that the roller coasters weren't really your thing. Perhaps the more relaxed ride would suit you?" He didn't really wait for an answer before continuing to meander on, this time with his hand linked with Ira's.

It wasn't a long walk, but Nathaniel took it slowly, perhaps from how easily distracted he had become by every person who passed them, sometimes trailing off mid-sentence to turn and watch them walk away. And somehow he didn't seem to think this was a peculiar thing to do, usually finding his way back to the topic immediately while they continued on.

"From what I gathered in line at the log flume earlier, most people buy ice cream on the way out. Do you think it would be odd to do? Seeing as we can't actually, you know..." He wiggled his fingers as though that might somehow illustrate eating ice cream. "How did you find out you could drink from vampires anyway? By accident? Is it something you crave? It's very curious that it only seems to work for you. I mean, I have tried it in the past, but certainly I wouldn't call it sustainable. Color me... intrigued..." He turned to watch a sweaty, but attractive man in a park uniform hurry by them.
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Offline Kāo

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It was Ira's turn now to experience the old but not forgotten warmth in his lower belly. Though he'd showered Nathaniel in casual touches since the moment they met, the general lack of reciprocation made this moment feel extraordinary. He tightened his hold on Nathanielís hand, squeezing once in greeting, then holding on with no intention of letting go for so long as Nathaniel allowed it.

ďIím afraid youíve sensed correctly,Ē he admitted with a hangdog kind of smile. ďI donít have the stomach for it. I donít see the point of it. I donít understand what you like about it. But the ferris wheel sounds very enjoyable. Thank you.Ē

Ira lifted the back of Nathanielís hand to his lips in a brief kiss to show his gratitude.

To the suggestion of ice cream he said, ďOh, I think we have to. Itís all part of the experience, you know.Ē

Ira began to answer Nathanielís question regarding his peculiar feeding habits, but then trailed off, noticing the other manís attention was elsewhere. With a coy little smirk and lifted nose he said, ďHe had a nice jaw. Carved shoulders. But his scent was reminiscent of that old warthog we saw earlier, donít you think?Ē Ira smiled over at him.

When they boarded the rickety car of the ferris wheel (number 17, it said, in faded white on the side,) Ira sat carefully so as not to cause any pendulum-like motion. He set the giant shark in the seat beside himself, next to the wall of the car, which in turn forced him closer to Nathaniel. He didnít mind, and hoped the other man wouldnít, either.

ďIt was an accident,Ē he told him, finally answering his question. ďIíd found out early on, not long after beingÖ converted... It happened one night while roaming the body of a woman Iíd thought Iíd fallen in love with; a fellow creature, a truly gorgeous specimen, we kindled a friendship and a brief romance in short order. I bit a little too hard. I didnít know my strength, or the sharpness of my canines, and thatís how it happened. It was revolutionary to my already transformed existence.Ē

Ira turned a little in the seat, as much as the space allowed, and looked Nathanielís face over with his lips still parted from speaking. Then the car gave a lurch, and he gasped, then he laughed. He laid his hand on Nathanielís thigh and didn't move it away.



Offline Stace

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Nathaniel's laugh was quiet and musical. Yes, perhaps that man did smell like a warthog. He didn't confirm that he agreed. Nor did he confirm that he didn't really mind either.

The wait for the ride was short, and Nathaniel had completely forgotten about asking his question by the time Ira was answering it. He didn't even seem to mind sitting so closely to Ira whom he had met yesterday. He watched his lips move while he explained what had led to his discovery that he didn't need to feed from humans, and both the topic and the flex of Ira's jaw and neck as he spoke and turns his head that way led Nathaniel's gaze to his neck where he stopped listening and curiously wondered if something might be different with Ira or just this time. If maybe even if it wasn't sustainable, if it could still lessen his need to feed, to become ravenous, to become that other him he thought he had no interest in being, though right now he found it hard to care. Just the memory of the scent of blood from a few minutes ago, and now thinking so intently about Ira's blood and what it would feel like to drink it from his neck right now... perhaps those things were the reason his moral compass drooped away from true north.

Lips loose and parted, it would have been obvious that Nathaniel's attention was not on Ira's words, but on his neck and his lips. Lust for blood leaned him closer as their car finally lifted without stopping now that the ride had been fully loaded. Ira had bitten him without warning earlier, so why shouldn't he do the same now?

"Is it really true that it hurts more if you're anticipating being bitten?" he asked, the tip of his tongue feeling out his own fangs in anticipation. He turned more toward Ira, putting his elbow up on the back of the seat and lightly touching Ira's neck with his fingertips. "Would you object to being bitten by surprise, I wonder." A smile played on his lips now as his gaze followed his own fingers.
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Offline Kāo

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Nathaniel, who had thus far kept his physical cues to a cool simmer, now moved in very near to Ira and consequently, Ira anticipated a felicitous kiss. A well-deserved kiss. It would be chaste, he suspected, but secretly smoldering with desire. He matched Nathaniel's posture, turning farther to regard him more fully in the close space. His heart beat a little faster. His lips parted slightly: waiting, hoping, and willing to serve or become soft. But there was no immediate kiss to be given.

Ira smiled sweetly and squeezed the thigh his hand had come to rest upon. He was utterly swimming in Nathaniel's eyes, enraptured by the way the transient ferris wheel lights changed their hue every fraction of a moment.

A thrill of goosebumps raced up his arms and he gave a small, fierce shudder at the pleasant touch against his neck. He wet his lips before answering, "Sure it's true. Anticipating danger only raises your awareness; with all your senses going haywire, you're at least twice as vulnerable to the pain." In a more nervous tone he added, "I do wish you hadn't asked. My mouth has gone dry just from the fright of it. I'm not quite haywire just yet. But I'd prefer you didn't keep me in a state of wary anticipation the rest of the evening."