sarafina (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sarafina) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2017-10-15 06:55 pm
sarafina) wrote in bakerstreet2017-10-15 06:55 pm
Kiss of the Vampire
 Vampires tend to have a lot of sex appeal. It may be because eEvil Is sexy for some, but not all vampires are evil, so maybe it's because they're bad boys or sultry femme fatales. Maybe people just figure hundreds of years of practice at love making makes vampires really, really good at it. On the other hand, tThe bloodsucking may be a great fetish source, something about a quick sting of pain followed by pleasure. When a vampire is hungry and isn't quite so decent or hard up as to lower himself to only buying blood at the butcher's or trapping and draining small animals instead, their dietary supplement of preference is human blood. However, vampires can make the experience of being a drink box not just bearable, but pleasurable for the donor. ( Text from these TVTropes articles. ) Roles 1. Vampire 2. Victim Prompts 1. Willing - You're either a friend of vampire offering up a quick bite...or you know what you like and that's being a giving person. 2. Unwilling - They want your blood, but you're not up to parting with it. Can you withstand the pleasure, however? 3. Fluffy - How can you make the hungry undead warm and sweet? They could just be jaded from all the cruelty they've seen or dealt out and want something different. 4. Romantic - Is it worse to be the prey of a vampire - or their lover? At least with the latter, they'll try to treat you gently. 5. Rough - The opposite of the above; this vampire couldn't care less about you and treats you like a slab of meat. 6. Dangerous - This is no kitten you're playing with. Remember, your life hangs in the balance if they sink their fangs too far... 7. Purely Sexual - Both of you are into a little bit of bloodplay. One of you just gets dinner on the side. |
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He'd been cautious of many threats, but getting turned into an immortal, blood craving monster had not been on the list. Before it happened, he would have ranked it someone between "gored to death by a unicorn" and "midnight battle with a werewolf." These days he was questioning that list. He should have known something was wrong with Reyes, but some things are impossible to predict. The why of his former friend had turned him still escaped him. He did, however, know for a fact that vampires weren't as fire prone as one might exact. At least when explosions are involved.
As the years marched on, he let the world think him dead and he found a way to put his new existence to use. He traded Overwatch blue for all red, while he dispensed his own manner of justice. He followed leads across the world, seeking out the only one who could reverse this, even if it meant killing the man. But between sightings, he had to feed. If he didn't, he'd never have the upper hand. So fed on criminals, those who needed to be put down anyway.
That night, he'd wiped out a rather brutal gang hiding out in a warehouse on the outskirts of Los Angeles. He'd ensured that even those he'd fed from wouldn't be getting up again. But just as with when he'd actually had a name he answered to, justice was not the same to everyone. He was wiping out criminals that others had ignored, but some might call it murder. Then again, just as he hadn't known there were vampires in the world until he felt fangs in his neck, he didn't know there were those who might be hunting him.
no subject
It's been years since Blackwatch fell. Since Overwatch went with it. Since Reyes went vampiric and Morrison went down. And McCree, one of the best hunters in the Blackwatch garrison, had been left to wander to his own devices. The man, rumored to have a demonic right eye, had become something of a specialist, cleaning up the darkest parts of underworld.
Werecoyotes in Santa Fe, a lady in white near San Juan Capistrano, various ghosts and ghouls and demons. But now, here, he's chasing after a hunter he's been following the scent of for months.
A vampire, from the looks of his targets. Dried out husks of men and woman who, under any other circumstances, he wouldn't care to look at twice. Criminal elements- mobsters and gangbangers, Deadlock and Los Muertos and everyone in between. As much as one would consider it justice? McCree has to look at it as murder. A vampire killing indiscriminately. Hunting beyond just what they need. And with the smell of fresh blood on the walls, maybe this was where he needed to be.
He sneaks into the open windows of the warehouse, carefully holding his revolver loaded with silver bullets. Careful of the clink of his belt- his spurs already removed for stealth. Carefully creeping through the shadows to try and find his target.
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But he'd allowed himself to get too distracted, too consumed by sating his own hunger. He tore himself free, snapping the neck of the young man. Wiping his mouth on his already red sleeve, he let his senses come back to him. He wasn't yet completely satisfied, maybe he could find a straggler. But too late he heard the jangle of metal behind him. Over the metallic odor of blood, he smelled something...familiar. Familiar enough for him to not turn around. He had to be imagining it.
"If you value your life, you'll leave this place."
It couldn't be who he thought. Reyes wouldn't have claimed his beloved recruit, wouldn't he? Isn't that why he left ahead of the storm? But the man behind him was very much alive. It didn't make sense.
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The red of his jacket pools with the blood, the white of his hair makes him seem eerie, more banshee than vampire. But McCree steps into the light to face him, his revolver cocked and ready.
"Don't much care if I live or die, stranger. But one of us is leavin' here tonight and it ain't me." He drawls, metallic hand moving to the vial of holy water he keeps on his hip just in case he gets too close. It can't be Jack. Jack's dead and buried.
Reyes hadn't turned him.... Had he?
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"Then you'd better be prepared to fight to the death." He pushed the words out, making them as gruff and angry as he could, summoning an eerie, inhuman snarl. He turned his head finally, his eyes luminous and red in the dim warehouse, glowing like embers. Even as he felt his hunger crying out for just one more, all he could think was run, kid. Save yourself.
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"Fought worse than you an' lived." Could shoot him right now and be done with it. But he hesitates. There's just something so... familiar about the man. A quip comes to mind as he moves in a step closer, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You seem familiar... ain't I killed you before?"
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"No..." he said as his head lowered slightly. The decision continued to rage in him Run or face him? Weighing one against the other. There was no clear choice. There rarely was. Even as he still struggled, slowly, he turned around. He lifted his head, so even in the dim light the gunslinger would have no doubt of who he was.
"Someone beat you to it."
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"This some kinda trick?" He manages to get out, barely above a whisper. Unable to tear his eyes away from the man. He should shoot him- needs to put him down. He's dangerous, killed more people than McCree can name. Even if they were all criminal. Even if they were people McCree himself would rather condemn.
"You died in Switzerland."
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"Reyes killed me. Turned me into..." he sneered, looking vaguely at his hands, "this. He's the monster you want."
He didn't know if he could convince McCree to go after his former mentor. The cowboy had always been something of a wildcard, never quite held down by things like morality or responsibility. Though that Shimada boy had proven to the soldier that it was possible for people to change for the better, McCree showed it wasn't always possible to completely remove the outlaw from certain types. Then again, he was hard pressed to argue about doing the right thing anymore, given his position.