#ch: gunnar leidolf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bloodandpaintchips · 4 years ago

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No Hellos Needed

Tagging→ Andrea Sheldon, Gunnar Leidolf Time Frame→ 12/11/2020, late night Location→ Sangren, Colorado General Notes→ Gunnar thought he was going to have a quiet night in, and Andy informed him that was not the case.

The last feed was complicated. Andrea was submerged completely in the bathtub at home, thinking about it all over again, and how fast she ran. How it didn’t even feel like running. The hot water was red from the blood that covered her mouth and neck earlier and she shut her eyes, staying under with her thoughts. She nearly got caught feeding on campus, having to leave a half-dead journalism major in his dorm room when the RA came to check on him. Her body reacted before she did and she was climbing out of the window, standing in the courtyard by the time she saw the lights come on in the room, followed by screams. She took off, making it home so fast she startled herself. She never tested her speed or anything like that, and she felt foolish for it. The night didn’t go as she planned, but she was fast. It was new, feeling untouchable in that way. Andy finally came up, the water splashing as she did so. The bath was nice, but as she drained the tub she was still incredibly wired. The feeling after feeding that much was so electric, and she hated having nothing to do with it. And then Gunnar flashed into her head like a suggestion from her subconscious. If a bath couldn’t calm her down, she had an idea of what would. So she texted him that she was coming over, hoping that was good enough.

Once she was dried off and in clothes, Andrea stared at her van keys on the dresser in her room, opting to leave them there and go by foot. She liked being fast. And she had to do something with all the energy. It started as a jog when she hit the street until everything around her moved slowly, blurred. The rush of it almost made her laugh. When she got to Gunnar’s door, stumbling a little upon stopping, she blindly fixed her hair and thought about what to say. She knew why she was there, but she wasn’t sure how to express it. Still, she knocked, eyes glowing a bit once she got sight of him.

Gunnar glanced curiously at the buzzing phone tossed beside him on the couch. His night off had consisted of a good meal and now, television. Mundane but Sangren wasn't exactly a bustling big city. The bar would be his best bet for a rowdy evening out and he didn't feel like spending his time off drinking at his job. So tv it was. He shifted the whiskey he'd been drinking to his other hand, gripping the short glass while the other reached for his phone. It was Andy. Texting back was unnecessary. By the time he'd open the message window there was knocking and Gunnar frowned. That was damn fast.

Figuring it was all part of the new and vamped up Andy. Gunnar downed his drink and stood up. The liquor didn't burn in the least, weaker than the demon whiskey he preferred but it wasn't bad in a pinch. Despite her invitation, she was knocking and waiting, and that amused him greatly. There was a ghost of a grin on his face when he opened the door, taking in the sight of her, eyes alight and a thrumming power rolling off her slender frame that he could feel in his teeth. "Evening, lass. This a social call, then?"

Andrea realized that while she’d turned to sex in the past to let off energy after a good feed (aside from more murder, which she was still on the fence about), the palpable attraction she felt toward Gunnar added another layer to the electricity going through her veins. She now felt the power that was usually coursing through her mixed with pure want, and realistically she hadn’t felt that once since she turned. So there he was, standing there, smelling faintly of his shampoo and a little whiskey and whatever intro she’d prepared for him was out the window. Before she could even overthink her actions or chastise herself over human-taught visitor etiquette, she was inside, pressing him against the wall in seconds. She wanted to be wrapped up in that smell. “Yeah, I came to socialize,” she managed, unable to hide what she felt on her face as she took him in. She smiled at him, but it faded quickly as her glowing eyes scanned his lips before taking them into hers. Her hands acted fast as she drank him in, trailing from his hair to his beard to the hem of his shirt before she was tossing it. Every moment of breath she got to explain herself or say hello was passed over in favor of more kisses and the feel of his skin -- hot, against her cold.

Gunnar gave a sharp grunt when his shoulder clipped the door jamb, completely caught off guard, despite the hungry gaze in those glowing eyes. Wasn't like he was expecting Andy to come at him, scrabbling hands and a forceful kiss. He bore the impact with another rough sound, matching the frenzied pace of her grip when she tossed his t-shirt aside. Christ, the door was still wide open. Not bothering to break their connection, Gunnar curled a muscled arm around her waist, hauling her body tighter against his own, walking backwards into his apartment and shutting the door. Now, he was free to familiarize himself with the taste of her. Faint in his memory, tinged with something sharper that spoke to her new altered Andy state. A metallic taste lingered as his tongue curled and moved against hers, blood setting his own power on edge. Large hands hooked under her thighs, hauling her up higher only to drive her forcefully into the wall, pressing a low growl to her lips and returned her kiss with fervor.

His force almost made her giddy. Her body being slammed against the wall sent shocks of something through her — not quite pain, but something. Her legs wrapped around his middle, she pushed herself up a bit and bit his bottom lip, careful not to draw blood. Her nails scraped his back and as she pulled away to let him breathe, her eyes, still bright, never left his lips. There was so much going on in her thoughts, the feel of him, the taste, the haze it seemed to cause. She couldn’t take him in the way she wanted to in that hallway, even as she met his lips again, tugging a little on his hair to part again. “Take me in there,” she told him, nodding toward where his room was and hiking herself up, closing her legs tighter around his middle, her skirt pushed up so he could likely feel her arousal between them.

The bite to his lip nevertheless sent a bolt of heat through him and he responded with a hard, approving grunt. The earlier surprise at being pounced on was long gone, chased away with Andy's frenzied crushing kiss and insistent fingers gripping and pulling at his hair. His hands pushing further, making quick work of her skirt, letting it bunch at her waist before cupping her bottom. He would give in to her demand, a far cry from the last time she'd been in his bed. Nervous but with a bold streak that had pleased him. Gunnar could recall his words to her then; it would seem she'd taken the 'no thinking' to heart and then some. Now, he could feel her need, taste it in the power that rolled off her in waves and made his skin tingle. Easily, he walked back to his bedroom, letting his lips linger on hers, planting one last kiss before dropping her at the edge of the bed. He didn't bother with words, finding that action would prove better. He dropped to his knees with a careless grace and deft fingers skimmed her thighs, sliding up cool, soft skin until he reached her panties, giving no warning before ripping them soundly and tossing the soaked scrap of fabric aside.

The scent of her was stronger, unhindered by bothersome cotton and filling his nostrils, bringing out another rumbled growl in his chest. Gunnar was none too gentle when he yanked Andy closer, settling her legs on his shoulders and palming her ass with both hands, lifting her hips higher until he met her wet with a kiss. The taste of her, rich and dark, heavy on the tongue that worked around her hardened clit in languid circles, sucking and biting at the no doubt sensitive flesh. Gunnar groaned, pressing the sound to her pussy, because he'd thought about this before, having her like this that first time, flouncy skirt and an inexperienced Andy with trembling hands. But this Andy, warmed by borrowed blood and drunk on power was a beautiful thing. And Gunnar was determined to set her to trembling once more.

She chased the last kiss before he set her down, hungry for it. However, she didn’t have time to lament the loss of contact before he was ripping her nondescript panties and discarding them. That in itself was a new experience, causing her to bite her lip and push her hair out of her face so she could see everything he did through lidded eyes. She could hear his heartbeat and feel his blood rushing, that matched whatever rippled under her own skin. He pulled her like it was nothing, her body sliding down the bed and bouncing from the impact and she couldn’t help the slight gasp that left her. He was so...strong. And Andrea could feel so much. Every way he gripped her, hips, thighs, ass as he lifted her up like a drink with her legs on his shoulders, sent a shock of heat into her skin. It was an overwhelming feeling that she was desperate to chase.

When his lips made contact with her core, she bit her lip to stifle the initial moan. Her fingers scratched and gripped the comforter she laid on, chest rising quickly as he worked at her clit, unrelenting and determined. Her quick breaths turned into soft, rasping moans and she brought a hand up to run through her hair as she gazed down at him. Once her hair was out of her face, she placed her palm down on the bed, pushing herself closer into his mouth and steadying her other hand in his already tousled hair. She knew she was coating his tongue, and probably pulling his hair too hard as he lapped at her, but she could only gasp and moan again. And again.

The tugging at his hair sent his own hand to her center, slick arousal coating the two fingers he pushed inside, warming from his body heat and stoking the need that pooled low in the pit of his stomach. The give of her was soft and he curled his both digits, timing his strokes with the way he worked his tongue against her, building to a rhythm that was steady in its relentlessness. It was different; there was no heartbeat to steer him, no racing pulse but there was Andy's moans. The soft sounds he could hear beyond the slender thighs around his ears. Guided by her gasps and the way her hips moved against him, chasing the feeling he offered. She clenched around his fingers, powerful muscles calling forth an image of those same feelings, the wet give of her pussy gripping tightly as she slid down the length of him. And he wanted that, and more.

Her body was on fire, the heat being something she hadn’t truly felt in years -- no hot blood running through her veins, no opportunities to lay under the sun. But she felt his, and it shot through her by way of his curving fingers and eager tongue. It felt so good, so sensorily all consuming, and she could only let him know with quickened breaths and louder moans. She sat up, running her fingers through his hair, taking in the sight of him between her legs and she was overcome with greed. She wanted to see him fully, wanted him inside of her. Impulses acting faster than her thoughts, she pulled him up, tasting herself on his lips in a searing kiss. “Stand up,” she prompted, waiting for him to do so and undoing his belt and carelessly whipping it across the room. Once she had his jeans down, eyes glowing again as she momentarily took him in, she pulled him onto the bed and flipped their bodies in seconds. In any other instance she may have been taken back by the scope of her own strength, but she had one focus, and she was straddling him. Reaching down, she pulled him out of his underwear, biting down on her lip as she guided herself over his shaft. Andrea sank onto him, bracing herself with a palm on his chest and letting out a low groan until he filled her. Leaning forward, she kissed him again as she started to move, moaning against his lips and increasing her strokes.

Gunnar wasn't fazed by much, which only made Andy's super-powered switch up so surprising. The taste of her still lingered, and he could still feel the phantom clenches gripping his fingers, still glistening with her arousal. One minute she was moaning and tugging at his hair and the next she was pulling at him. Not that he minded. Not in the least. Her legs fell from his shoulders, his jeans soon followed once his belt clattered to the floor and he barely had time to register the feel of her lips against his before he was on his back and on the bed. He watched her, taking in the sight of her. Soft skin and slender curves deceptive in the sheer strength that lay underneath it all. Her eyes and that glow, strange but alluring. And he held her gaze, even as she gripped him, questing fingers lining up his length as she lifted her hips. She was still soaked and he slid in and out of that slickness with every measured rock. Gunnar cupped the back of her neck, keeping her near enough to kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in time with the hard snap of his hips to meet her strokes, swallowing the sounds she made, a low growl burning deep in his chest.

It was intense being this close, his hand gripping her against him, tongue brushing his as he filled her again. Andy only pulled away from his lips long enough to say his name. Their hips rocked together and she found her fingers in his hair again, lips drifting from his mouth to his bearded jaw, to below his ear, where she could smell the rush under his skin. Another thrust from him had her walls tightening around him more, reluctant to let him go with each movement and she could feel the swelling in her middle. She was close. Gently, she rolled them so he was still inside of her, settled between her thighs. Her legs went around him quickly, pushing him in a little deeper and earning a louder moan from deep in her throat. She liked looking down at him but she also liked this, feeling herself pressed down by the weight of him. Her mouth found his again as she urged his strokes, arms snaking around his neck to keep him near.

Gunnar felt a sharp flare of pleasure at the sound of Andy's voice, tasting the traces of his name on her tongue in the kisses she offered. On his lips, his jaw, her movements having no kind of order but he liked that she seemed to lose herself in the moment. The slick give of her body, moving with his thrusts and he could feel it in the way she flexed and fluttered around him that it wouldn't take much more. He moved easily with her shifting their positions. Slender, strong thighs kept him close, and Gunnar rocked into her soaked center, just as he felt her arms at his neck. He slid his arm under her back. Her body was powerful but pliant, skin like silk in his iron grip, pulling her closer, her hips pushed higher just as he surged forward, the slight angle causing him to go much deeper and he groaned at the feeling. He kept her right there, tucked into his muscled front, bare breasts crushed against his thumping heart as he pounded into her, knowing she could take the full force of his strength and that the hard, driving strokes would be just exactly what she needed. What they both needed. He kissed her then, letting his moans slip between their parted mouths.

Andy loosened one of her arms from around his neck, letting her hand graze his necklace before resting her palm on his chest. Her thumb grazed the scar there, other hand gripping at the hair on his neck as he thrusted more affirming cries from her. She could feel every move he made with their torsos pressed together, and the feeling she tried to keep at bay was catching up to her again, tingling in her toes, legs, thighs and finally deep in her core. She broke their kiss, sharply inhaling and gripping his hair tighter as she peaked. Bringing her arms back around his neck in a tight embrace, her legs relaxed slightly around his middle as she moaned through it. Her lips found his again, kisses a little softer this time.

His forehead rested against her brow, instinctively leaning into the light touch of her fingers on his skin, and savoring the tugging at his hair. The sharper grip felt damn good, echoing the frantic clench of her walls and he rocked his hips, chasing the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach even as Andy climaxed and clenched around him, feeling the tremble go through her slender frame. Her arms were tighter, squeezing his neck, matching the strength between her thighs, wrenching his orgasm from him with a deep growl. He pressed the sound to her lips in the kiss she offered, softer and a contrast to the impossible and delicious clutch of her slick center. He held her close still, free hand cupping her cheek to deepen their kisses.

She shivered in the comedown, thighs close around him, still greedy for the heat he provided. Andrea was rarely able to quell the energy coursing through her after feeding, so it added another layer to the post-orgasm bliss she felt -- the calm. She was always chasing it, and she’d seemingly caught up to up in this afterglow. Leaning back against the pillow completely, she placed her hand on top of his where it rested on her face. She didn’t even have the urge to speak, and it’s something she would have laughed at the thought of if the circumstances were different.

The silence wasn't at all uncomfortable, and Gunnar savored the stillness, letting his lips linger in the curve of her neck when Andy rested against the pillows. He could scent her, something dark and sweet, mixed with his own. It brought out a deep twinge, aftershocks from his release and he silenced the groan in her neck. Cool skin radiating power and a calm that called to him. He knew his weight was significant on her, and instinct told him to move, but he remembered. She was strong now, strong as hell. And he rather liked the way she surrounded him. Scent and strength. His hips rolled into another one of those phantom twinges and Gunnar slipped his arm from around her, letting Andy lie back fully, his thumb continuing to stroke her cheek. "So," he started, the words rumbled into the space right below her jaw. "All your 'hellos' are gonna be like this from now on?"

Andrea’s fingers threaded through his hair, still reveling in the way her body and mind slowed down. His sounds rippled into her skin and she smiled, distracted until she heard him speak. The small laugh she released surprised her a bit and she leaned into him before answering. “It wasn’t necessarily a part of my plan, I was thinking I would be really polite and ask you to put the tea on first. Then have some light conversation, I don’t know,” she joked, sighing and biting her lip for a moment. “But apparently I’m more of a doer these days.”

"Tea." He snorted at that. With one last kiss to her chin, Gunnar slipped from her embrace, rolling over to the side and onto his back with a low grunt. "Don't mind that, being one of those Andy impulses." He glanced over. "Works out for the both of us."

She sank deeper into the bed and pulled the blankets up in a wordless way of letting him know she planned to stay a while. Letting her fingers dance along his arm, Andy smirked at his comment and took note of it. She would be chasing this calm a lot. “Good to know.”

#gl #ch: gunnar leidolf #p #para: no hellos needed

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bloodandpaintchips · 4 years ago

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A Second Draft

Tagging→ Andrea Sheldon, Gunnar Leidolf Time Frame→ November 4, 2020 Location→ Sangren, Colorado General Notes→ The blue tape had to come down eventually.

The bed in Andrea’s new room at Johnny’s was like a giant pillow. She’d only left once, to look at the moon and to find someone to feed on (a nondescript patron at Ted’s who she merely compelled to forget that 10 minutes so he could keep drinking). Now she was back in this really soft bed and alone with her thoughts. And now that she was back in town, those thoughts were drifting to Gunnar a lot. It was a sore spot, as she couldn’t think of him without thinking about August and the things August took from her. She got to feel the things she felt with Gunnar after the fact, and she’d so often find herself closing her eyes and trying to place herself in the murky memories. She had to get out of this bed. That buzz from having just fed was right under her skin and she knew just laying around missing him, miles away from where she remembered he stayed, was a little ridiculous. She was in her van in moments, driving to her father’s house and hoping he’d been long asleep. Her features changed momentarily and she could feel it. She had a lot of emotions to regulate, especially looking at her old house, but she was here with a purpose -- in and out.

Climbing the side of the house near her bedroom was incredibly easy and she briefly thought about how she’d probably be getting used to random discoveries of what she was capable of for a long time. The window was open, considering Frank probably just avoided the room, even when he was waiting for her to come back. Slipping inside, Andrea scanned the area and quickly gathered her work boxes, one full of graphite and brushes and markers, the other full of bulky acrylic paint tubes. All right where she left them. She was back outside in moments, tossing the boxes in the passenger seat before getting in, starting the engine and taking off to Gunnar’s. Not wanting to waste time when his place came into view, she got out, grabbed the boxes and locked the van before making her way up to his door. A few seconds were spent wondering how he’d even react or how she’d explain showing up years later to make good on an art promise, but she shook her head finally and knocked.

Gunnar had spent the better part of the hour hauling in a brand new television. And he wasn't sure if that was responsible or a little bit sad. A rare day off and when he'd left the auto shop he'd decided shopping was a good idea. Granted, he needed the new TV but the normalcy of it all was odd. And oddly comforting. The large flat screen was set up, cable installed, and he was settled on the couch with some mindless comedy when he heard the knock.

Strange, that. He sniffed the air, finding no trace of something unfamiliar or unwanted (no cloying honeyed smoke), and shuffled to the door. Whoever, whatever it was, it wasn't like he couldn't handle it. More than likely some poor sod selling something that knocking on any other door would've gotten him a bite for his troubles. He wasn't, however, expecting to see her. The arched brow was the only indicator of surprise, eyes unreadable as they studied the pretty features of the girl who had disappeared in a cloud of mystery and remained as such for so long, Gunnar wasn't sure what to believe about the why and when, if ever she was going to return. But there she stood. Different, but not. Changed, yes. And so he stepped aside and gave her a short nod. "Come in."

When he opened the door, even though she had no clue what to expect, she smiled a little. True, she missed him and seeing his face again just reminded her how much. He looked exactly the same, only his hair was short. Still thick, though. Eyes still very blue. At his invitation, she walked in and set the boxes down in the nearest convenient spot before facing him completely. “So um,” she started, kicking her foot toward where she set the boxes. “I came to work on that.” She turned her head to look around the space, eyebrows raising when her gaze landed on the gridded blue tape -- still there. Fixing her eyes back on him, her smile returned despite her efforts to keep it subdued. “Fuck.” With that, she bounded toward him, practically jumping up to wrap her arms around him in a hug that she hoped would transfer all her feelings. “I’m sorry. I missed you,” she said into his shirt.

He watched her enter his space, eyes shifting briefly to the box and then to the wall. It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about the blue tape still outlining the long-abandoned art project. Hard to, considering it took up the entire length of it. He'd long stopped tossing the odd and errant glance at the thing and eventually it faded into the background, usually only coming up whenever a visitor, rare that that was, had inquired. And he'd never actually give a response, simply shrugged. But there she was, the prodigal artist returned. No worse for wear, barring the change in diet.

And the strength. Jesus. That was wholly unfamiliar. Odd to place to the very human, very delicate Andy of old. This one, still pretty, but with a considerably stronger grip. He returned the hug, instinct not to put his full strength behind it. Difficult to break, the old habit. Andy, less so. He didn't understand the apology at all, and his lips lifted into a brief smile that he pressed into her hair. "Only a little late," came his reply, the dry humor of it all hidden in his hug. "Missed you too."

Laughing at his words, she held onto him a little longer before pulling away and running a hand through her hair. “I would’ve been on time, but some stuff happened,” she replied, smirking and giving a small shrug. “I probably should have called. Or something. I don’t really know what’s polite. But I brought all my crap with me to paint. I also figured I should tell you what happened. Well not should, but I want to tell you. If you’re still willing to have me talk your ear off and put creepy stuff on your wall.” She found herself taking him in, possibly trying to fill in those memories again. “I like your hair.”

"Figured as much," he replied, letting his smile linger as she pulled away. "Don't worry about it. What's done is done. Still glad to see you." Calling probably would've been the right thing to do. But Gunnar could understand the urgency that came with getting the hell away. Andy had ties, though. And she hadn't struck him as the type to disappear into the night. But all things considered, he got it. "Don't mind either. The talking or the art." Her compliment made him laugh, a short gruff sound and he raked a hand through the shorn blond locks. "Thanks. Got tired of combing it. Needed a change. See you did too." He nodded towards her own hair. "Suits, though. You want something to drink? Beer? Tea? Do tea now. Big changes."

She picked up her boxes and walked over to the wall, setting them down and looking it over to get a feel of just how big the space was. “Good.” She thought about all of the things she wanted to tell him, where she would start, and how to say it all. The idea to paint the wall was honestly a way for her to figure all that out without just taking up space in his loft. Working with her hands also just opened her up in a way she’d never been able to explain. “Beer is cool. Thanks,” she replied, getting her graphite sticks out and a small piece of tarp to set them on the floor. “So I’m just gonna go with my gut on this and hope you don’t regret still letting me do this. I used to have a plan but those are kind of leading me to shitty places lately, so I’m gonna go with the flow.” She smiled, turning to look at him. “I think I’m in the right place for it.”

Gunnar left her to sort out her supplies and headed to the kitchen to retrieve their beers. "Don't think I would've kept the tape up if I changed my mind," he told her once he returned, handing off one of the chilled bottles. "Been some time, but I still remember you're a dab hand with paint and art. Sure that hasn't changed." The 'right place' part was interesting, and Gunnar was sure she wasn't just talking about the wall. He wondered what other places she encountered and what had finally brought her back to this one. "Not much you could do that I wouldn't like."

Taking the bottle, she brought it to her lips and downed most of it before setting it on the floor near her supplies. “Guess I was thirsty,” she said, smiling briefly before grabbing a piece of graphite and picking a corner of the grid to start mindlessly outlining a figure. Her hands worked quickly, weirdly keeping time with her brain in a way that she wasn’t used to. She filled in shadows until finally, she spoke again, not tearing her gaze away from what she was doing. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other?” She had things she wanted to say but she wasn’t sure if she could look him in the eyes about it yet. So she kept sketching.

"Looks like." His own bottle rested comfortably on his denim covered knee once he settled back on the couch. Gunnar sipped his beer and chuckled. Knocking back beers; another newly acquired quirk. The television was on, saving them from a long gap of silence while she worked and posed a question that Gunnar had wondered himself, plenty of times. Still, he didn't answer right away. Curious about the way her fingers moved easily, as if no time had passed. Or the way she asked without actually looking at him. "Been some time, pet" he answered honestly. "You wanting to know something specific?" He paused, taking another sip from his bottle. "Think it was when we were out on my bike. Took us for a ride."

She was already finishing up on a figure outline, moving on to another as she gave him time to answer. When he did, she stopped, setting the graphite down and turning to him. “Yeah, it was when you took us for a ride,” she replied. The memory was a happy one, but it didn’t make her smile. “I remember too. And after you brought me home, I got roughed up real nice, fed on, and then compelled by August to believe it was him. Again.” She tucked some hair behind her ear and sat against the wall, facing where he was across the area on the couch. “Actually, every time I was with you, barring the first time, was...in my mind, with August. I guess he was grooming me or something. He’d been changing my thoughts repetitively for months and I had no clue, until he took the trust I had in you and tried to use it to take my virginity. Well he didn’t try. He did. And this happened,” she said, quickly gesturing at her face as it turned, only for a moment. “The wedding’s off though,” she joked, the smile not reaching her eyes. She didn’t look at Gunnar yet, unsure of how her word vomit would land and trying to subdue the flecks of anger she already felt describing it all.

Gunnar let her talk, expression unchanging as the words hung in the air. The truth of the matter that had left them both confused (and much anger on his part) finally revealed. The haze of those happenings had bothered the hell out of him. Knowing something was amiss with the dandy that seemed intensely occupied with Andy. And now he knew why. Her bouts of forgetfulness. The bruises. Christ, her face. He knew that, of course. Sussed it out from Johnny, what August had done to the girl. And part of that rage lingered in him. Angry with himself, for not noticing who and what the asshole was, put the pieces together in time. It'd been too late for Andy then. She was different now. He tried to suss out where her emotions lie, difficult in the almost clinical way she spoke of August twisting her mind and taking and tainting the memories. Nothing to that smile, or the gallows humor. But then he sensed it, fleeting spark of anger. Familiar in feeling, but foreign coming from Andy. But understandable. A justified rage, metered but not mindless. Nothing less than what she owed to herself, and the unfortunate situation she was put into, against her will. He pushed the beer bottle to the coffee table, and regarded her, unsure of what to say.

When she finally looked up, grabbing a piece of graphite to twirl in her hand, she kept going. “I know this is a lot. There’s like, no way to make it not a lot, if that made sense. But yeah.” Sometimes she liked being able to cry, but as liquid began to burn at her lids, this wasn’t one of those times. She didn’t even know what kind of tears they were — angry, remorseful, etc, she just wiped them away quickly. “He’s dead now, I killed him pretty much immediately. Before I even registered that I could kill anything. But all I felt was red, for months. Like I couldn’t even control it or my actions, and when I was finally able to, I was still fucking lost. I was afraid of what I would do but most of all I just felt shame?” She met his eyes, hers a bit bloodshot. “And once my mind was clear enough to really assess what happened...why every time I was with him it felt like a copy of something, why I was telling myself I was in love with him but I kept trying to leave with you somehow, I felt...stupid kinda. Like it was my fault. I know logically it wasn’t but I couldn’t even be here. I made up some great journey in my head to find my mom but it was all me trying to run from the reality of what happened. I think I still am a little, but I needed to come home. I left a lot here.”

No one could fault her for taking off. Gunnar surely didn't. Mostly. He knew what it was like, having that kind of rage inside, first glimpse of it, and the impulsive need to get the hell away from everything. Gunnar watched her, the tears she brushed away, and he felt nothing but grim satisfaction at August's end by her hand. Learning the full truth, the dandy deserved far worse. His fingers twitched against his denim-covered knees but he didn't furl them into fists. It wasn't needed. Andy didn't need his anger. Words, words were better. Even though they were never really easy for him, he liked trying for her. "Know you wouldn't leave if you didn't have a reason. Same for coming back. S'not your fault. Even if you know it, doesn't hurt to hear it. Did what you had to do. What you thought you had to do. Just glad you remembered you had things worth coming back to."

She let a tear fall and smiled, genuinely this time as she listened to him grumble out those things she really needed to hear from him. Andy knew he wasn’t much for words; he expressed himself in other ways, but he tried for her and it was evident. It made her feel happy to be back and regretful at the same time. “I did think I had to do it. I thought I had to do a lot. I’m always thinking. Vampirism didn’t get rid of that, unfortunately.” She put the piece of graphite in her hand back on the tarp and pushed herself off of the floor to go sit next to him on the couch. “I’ll probably finish the wall in a week. It’s gonna be all the faceless things I always saw in my head. Easy to duplicate, the eyes and hands and just, curtains of darkness. I’ve committed it to memory. But right now I wanna sit here,” she told him, tugging at a band on her wrist. She was quiet for a few moments, gathering her thoughts again. “I’m sorry. I know that might sound silly to you but I don’t know how else to express the things I feel, one foot away from you. I just have these memories of you that feel like they’re fifteen years away because they were so fucked with and maybe I’m just sorry in general. I feel like it’s all a bunch of sorry. But I won’t bore you with all of my regrets and sorries. I just wanted to say it one more time I guess. Now I have to move forward and I’m...not great at that,” she said, turning to look at him and smiling again.

"Might be a good thing, that Andy overthinking. Balance out the impulse control." His lips lifted in a light grin. "No rush on the wall. I'm around mostly, and I'll give you the spare key. Pop in whenever." Gunnar shifted slightly when she sat beside him, glad the distance was reduced. She'd been far away long enough. Carrying, from what he gathered, a pretty heavy weight. August. Her road trip. Something about her mother. What happened with them didn't need to be another one of her burdens. "S'not silly. Can't say I think you need to atone for anything, least with me. Sometimes moving forward, might be better." He exhaled and reached out, stilling the fingers that were still tugging at the band on her wrist. "Can't undo what he did, taking those memories. It's proper fucked up. Still us, though. Some changes. Give it some time. You work on your wall. We'll be alright."

Her fingers stopped moving under his and she blew out a breath, sinking into the couch a little more and feeling a relief she didn’t even know she was searching for. “I feel like I forgot what it feels like to relax,” she said quietly, letting herself slump over and rest her head on his shoulder. “Everything happened so fast, and then I was just feeding and running and searching in an endless loop. Always so much energy directed in different places...now I’m talking about making art again, something I haven’t even thought about since I left. And I’m here, and your place smells the same and you smell the same. I was almost getting used to the upheaval, but I’m remembering what content feels like again,” she explained, laughing a little. “It’s nice to not be freaking out about something for a bit.”

"Not much to freak out about here," he told her, surprised that it was true, for the most part. Things in Sangren were always strange, but familiar in its weirdness. Human Andy was always so cautious. This new Andy lacked the body heat but was no less warm in actions. Head on his shoulder. Rambling. Not the same, but similar in the ways that mattered. In the Andy ways he'd missed. "Pretty new for you, pet. Feeding, and the like." His smile was brief at the sound of her laughter. "'Spect you'll fall into the rhythm again. Different now, you being all super strength. Can't make you tremble anymore if we ever spar again."

She nodded against his shoulder, silently agreeing. She had become her own greatest fear, so while Sangren felt so familiar, it also felt like a completely new place for her to get to know. But having a place to stay in Johnny’s home where she felt so safe, and sitting here with Gunnar and feeling the warmth and activity under his skin -- it wasn’t overwhelming. “Feeding...yeah. I’m still not totally used to it but it’s interesting being able to just…” she started to focus on his arm, running her fingers down his veins and turning into his neck a little more. “Smell and feel everything? And hear everything.” She paused, taking in what he said and laughing a little. “Super strength or not, that’s still very much a possibility. The trembling was attributed to a few things there.”

He hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but hearing Andy admit to the trembling being more than just their afternoon spar made him laugh. "Guess that's true enough. Gave you plenty to tremble about." It was strange to think about her feeding. Not in a bad way, just a wholly different picture of the girl he'd last seen. The timid one who wouldn't have been as bold, tucking her face into his neck or initiating touches. "Do I have to worry about you sizing me up for a meal or for a fight?" he asked, the question dripping with amusement as he dipped his head, letting his faint grin brush the top of her head in a brief touch. "Takes getting used to, I'll bet. Senses in HD. Blood is a rush. That I know. Guess you're less about the spilling than the savoring, though."

Andrea thought about how much that would have made her blush before, but it just made her smile. “As for nervous trembles, you’d probably still get those. A little. Despite this practically new body, I haven’t…” She stopped, biting her lip and trying to find the right words. “Sparred like I probably could. I haven’t even felt the hunt since those first couple months when I couldn’t control it, and that was like just seeing a dissociative red for an extended period of time. I don’t know my strength yet, which anyone could tell from my now-crinkled steering wheel.” Honestly, she was afraid to know it -- the scope of what she could do. It was like she didn’t know her own hands anymore, the only thing making her think that wasn’t true being the way she just eased into working on the wall again. It told her maybe she was different but not entirely, and maybe she could know herself fully again. Maybe more than she did before all this. “You don’t have to worry about me trying to eat you. I may like your scent more than usual and maybe I can hear the blood flow in and out of your heart, but I don’t wanna eat you. Maybe taste but only with consent,” she joked, shaking her head. “But you’re right. Feels like an understatement actually. Trying to balance living life still, but through this whole new lens.” She didn’t comment on the last part, knowing her feeding method was so inefficient and probably wouldn’t last her. But she didn’t want to talk about that.

"Yeah? What makes you nervous lately?" He listened as she recalled her experience, seeing red and feeling that out of control strength and something like understanding tugged at Gunnar, because he got it. Knew the thrill, the taste and feel of it, and the slippery sensation of fear that went with it. "Like to tell that you get used to it, but you don't. Adapt, though. That happens. Evolve with the change. Takes some time. Test your limits. I could help with that. If you're ever feeling like you need a show of strength. Work out that energy." That...well perhaps that was meant a few ways. Gunnar smiled at her little joke, letting his fingers slide through her slender ones. "You smell different. Not bad. New, is all. Few days of playing in paint, remind me of that Andy scent." His fingers brushed her knuckles, eyes holding a thinking look as he considered his words. "Dunno if tasting's a good idea, pet," he rumbled. "Never had a vamp at my neck. No telling what my blood'll do. Wouldn't want this mess in here to harm you."

“I’m not sure how to explain it, but mostly I make me nervous. It’s weird knowing you’re capable of a lot, but not what exactly.” She appreciated his honesty, and the fact that it was from a reliable source -- they weren’t the same, but there was a bit of overlap and it made her happy to at least be talking to someone who knew what it was like to have to subdue something all consuming; to know that not being able to regulate emotions could lead to carnage. He’d felt that for so long, and she felt like she was joining a fucked up club. For a moment she remembered the fear in her father’s eyes when he saw her change and sighed. “It’s time for me to adapt to a few new things.”

She leaned up a little to meet his eyes, searching them for a moment before smiling a little. “That could be fun, having my limits tested. I constantly have more energy than I know what to do with. You should definitely help me out.” She cleared her throat, getting distracted at the feel of his hand, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “Just wait till I’m covered in paint. It’ll happen very soon considering how many layers of it I’m gonna need for what I have in mind.” She glanced over at the wall, smiling and feeling a little spark at the thought of creating something big again, still bigger than anything she’d done. His little warning made her swipe the skin of his neck with her nose again, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away slightly, smirk in place. “Just say no to Gunnar blood. Got it. Wouldn’t wanna lose myself.”

"S'good, you having that bit of nerves," Gunnar said with a short nod. "Means you're not far gone. Can always come back to yourself. Seen plenty of types lost to the wildness. Nearly been there myself." He shrugged. The sigh that followed was curious, but Gunnar wasn't one to pry. Andy would talk on her own time. He liked the easy flow of their talks. Missed it over the years. And he wasn't surprised that she'd readily agreed to his offer. He could sense her strength, the raw power rolling off her in waves. That kind of energy always called to his own, even if it wasn't exactly the same. "Whenever you want us, then. I'm around." Andy's excitement about the wall and diving back into her art was infectious. It'd been so long since nothing but that blue grid, a strange reminder to that time that seemed forever ago. It felt full circle to have her back like this. Sitting with him and talking art...the blood chatter, that was new.

There was more boldness, the brush of her nose against the line of his neck, keen sense of smell making his skin twitch. She was definitely full of power, and that was a curious, new thing. "Aye. Wouldn't say no to a nibble or two. But drawing blood, no telling what's to be made of that. Always been curious about it. Not curious enough to risk you, though."

“Can always come back to myself,” she mumbled, repeating him. “I think I’ve wanted to hear that for a while, Gunnar.” She sat with that for a moment, thinking about how for someone who usually didn’t chat too much, sometimes he said exactly what she needed to hear in the most succinct way. She pursed her lips at his words, listening and nodding in agreement. “Nibbles good. Bites bad. Best to leave the unknown where it is.” Some of his words stuck out to her and she inhaled a little, circling back to something he said. “Anytime I want? You promise?” She finally let her free hand wander, running her fingers through his hair, liking the smell of that too. “Cause sometimes people regret stuff like that.”

"Glad I could help." It was sincere and he backed it with a brief smile. It was good she'd agreed about the blood. There was enough already to sort with her memories of their previous encounters. Not to mention the bloodlust. He wasn't entirely sure where she was with control, and the last thing anyone needed was a test. The raseri didn't burn as hotly now and he hadn't dulled it with drugs in some time. But he was always aware. Always cautious. He did lean into the caress of her fingers. That was nice and familiar. He was amused by her playfulness, the suggestive of it all. "Promise. Haven't regretted anything we've done so far. No need to start. Especially since you remember now."

Andrea had been testing her limits, afraid to cross boundaries although she knew by merely coming to see him, the heightened aspect of it all mixed with her attraction would be intense. And he looked at her like he wanted her, and she could smell his breath, and his hair was soft on her fingers. She felt it all so acutely. His response only established some things, especially his mention of her memories. She wanted one that was clear, hers and never muddled with. Yes, she got them back but it was through a fog. She couldn’t remember how he felt. So she leaned up, tilting his head gently by his hair before brushing her lips against his. The contact made her want more immediately so she kissed him, releasing his hand so she could lean against his form and touch his face. “I’m sorry, I just,” she whispered once she was able to pull herself away, lips a little puffy from her excitement. “You just...I should probably be good and work on the wall.”

Gunnar accepted the kiss with a small grunt, more surprise than instinct. It was brief, and then Andy was pulling away, with apologies and an energy that was very much like her former self, so much that Gunnar could've smiled. Instead he reached for her, long fingers skimming her jaw, lifting her face to his so he could give her another kiss. Lips slanting over her own, soft and cool and he savored the feel of her mouth, dropping feather light presses before shifting back. "No thinking Andy," he told her, paralleling the impulsive words he'd given her on one of those muddled nights long ago. Daring her delicate human self to give in to those base instincts. He dropped his hands, letting his arm flop across the back of the couch as he regarded her. "Go be good now. Work on your wall. Don't wanna stand in the way of art. I'll be over here."

#p #para: a second draft #ch: gunnar leidolf #gunnardown

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