#❛ 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 —— thought he could be martyr

[stygianbloom]

    There was an intimacy to be found when students had wandered back to their dorms or to clubs at the end of the day.  There was an intimacy in the silence offered by empty classrooms,  only the glimmering sun and the still books and potions,  ingredients tucked away,  to bear witness to this burning desire turning them to sin.  How hushed the boys were,  as if at any moment they might be found by prying eyes,  of other dorms or faculty.  Yet this did not deter the Scarabia student.  Nor his victim to be.  No god would have mercy on the boy,  not whilst he burned under those teasing touches,  those sharp eyes filled with such promise. How tightly slender arms wound their way around the student’s body,  long fingers and sharp claws leaving hot lines down the length of his back through his rumbled shirt.  Long legs tangled up in his prey’s own,  nudging his knees to part,  so he might fill the space with his own limbs,  his wide hips.

Grouping hands rose to tug at his shirt,  to touch his weighty chest,  his hands tracing and pinching.  And though the appeal was lost on Xia,  he did not knock aside those clumsy hands.  No,  his focus was on laying gentle kisses along his collar,  leading the way up his neckline until he felt that thunderous,  quivering pulse.  It was then that his lips did part,  and how his sharp fangs did sink just beneath the surface of warm flesh.  Skin dipped and and split around the sharp points of those long, serpentine fangs, and all at once there was the briefest tease of blood which bubbled up around the wound.  And his prey?  His prey gasped,  hands gripping and balling up the fist of his shirt,  before he grew lax,  as though he had lost all will to even attempt to fight back.

He was heavy in Xia’s arms,  but not in a cumbersome manner.  He had held up far heavier men and women,  and held them all the same. He bit down harder,  and sucked hard upon the wound,  forcing blood up where his fangs had torn,  had dug.  It was just for a better taste,  a measure of the worth of blood he would dine on for the evening,  to satisfy him for a few weeks. Slowly, he drew back some,  drawing his fangs out until only the tips lingered shallowly below the surface.

[stygianbloom]

❝  So you believe my foxes have stolen from you?  ❞  It wasn’t such a farfetched idea,  but Xia was unwilling to be swayed into assisting one way or the other.  At least,  not yet,  given the habits of the small white foxes.

[stygianbloom]

❝  Hmm?  If you’re looking for that old fox,  they’ve already gone and left.  Let me help you instead. ❞  As if he really wanted to,  he’d much rather tidy up the dilapidated building and kick out the amusing assortment of foxes that roamed the property.