Doors Halloween (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} doorsween) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} doorslogs, |
"Of course it is," she ground out, accompanied by a tightening of her fingers. "There is no one else here to decide. Just you and me." She leaned farther, face so close that her nose nearly touched his cheek, her hair falling in a muddy shield of curtain around them. The way she knelt over him hid nothing, though she cared not at all.
She wondered, suddenly, what it would be like to use her teeth. To sink them into flesh instead of paper, let the warmth spill and fill her. It suddenly seemed far preferable to simply choking the breath and life from him. But when she leaned in, sank enamel into the delicate give of his arm, muscle under teeth, she was still human, and her teeth bruised more than cut. She simply bit harder, striving and searching for what she craved, finally drawing blood to the surface. The metallic slick of it was both nauseating and perfect, and she found herself wanting more. Always more.
She closed her eyes as the world shuddered and shifted, and it took a moment of the grinding of gears and cables for her to realize that the elevator was moving again, steadily downward toward its next location. Teeth withdrawn, she turned to sharply glare at the panel of buttons. "No," she growled at it, mouth and tongue scarlet with her bloody delicacy. "No."