Wolf RPG

It was about time for him to check out his father's old home to see how it was going. The bitch was right, Vengeance's scent was lacking along the borders, his usual stench had faded long ago and he could only imagine she was telling the truth. He died - boo fucking hoo. Served him right for training some whelps so well to the point that they were good enough to overthrow him. Abaddon wouldn't make that mistake, he wasn't a fighter anyway to teach anything to anyone so all he had to do was continue doing what he had been.

What was interesting was smelling the young pup he had met during his last visit here - the confused little boy who let him drink from him before getting all flustered. He thought the female had taken over the pack, but even her scent was gone... they were going through a few leaders one after another now huh? How interesting..

Funny enough, the boy was quick to make his appearance. Quickly coming out of the fog to make his presence clear and confirming what the other bitch had said months ago. So I've been told. he mulled over the thought of maybe demanding his father's title, just to see what that would bring. Not that he desired the rank, but maybe to ruffle a few feathers and nothing more. 

I wanted to find out for myself. Is that so wrong? He offered a light head tilt while his own eyes roamed the boy who had certainly grown. From a ripe mouthful to something... well. More. Perhaps trying to get a bite out of him now would prove a little more difficult than last time, not only because he was older... but their last interaction didn't go over so well for him.

The tilt of his head did little to make Valour soften though he reluctantly shrugged "No" he admitted grumbling he shifted his weight awkwardly under Abaddon's roaming gaze feeling his heart begin to race in response. Narrowing his eyes he tried to play it off cool, smirking and sarcastically calling him out on it "Whaddya think? Trying to size up my neck or do you think I'm hot or something?" always falling back on his tongue, much like his father had back in his day.

His grin was grim, dark, sinister as he eyed the way the boy shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Although the boy grew and did evolve from the strange little boy who barely knew how to handle himself, a few months did not make a man. Abaddon could still just see that same pup just hiding beneath the facade of an adult. He handled it better that was for certain, less obvious at least - or was Abaddon being too harsh on the growing boy after past experiences?

Do you really want to know what I'm thinking? he teased. Though he didn't think the boy was more mature than he was back in the day, perhaps slightly, he was still bigger and boy did Abaddon not like getting into any physical altercation. He waited to see what Valour would think of his response, how he would act, and only then would he double down on anything. For now, he kept his mouth shut and was careful when to speak until the time was just right...

There was a shift in the man's grin that made him look deadlier and Valour swallowed, eyeing him shiftily before his tail rose high above his spine in a silent threat trying to square up with his own menace as much as he could. The tension was thick enough to bite into and only thickened when the bloodlusty man taunted him, Valour would even go so far as to say it was flirtatious. Doubting the man wanted any true harm he boldly strode closer, eyes staring diectly into Abaddon's crimson ones "Yeah" his tone was a cocky test, smirk flashing a hint of fangs before he stopped just in front of the man "You're looking thirsty or something" he prompted adrenaline surging as he imagined riling the man up. God he just wanted something exciting, the spars and small trips weren't doing it for him anymore.

Unlike most wolves, Abaddon wasn't the type to try and give off a dominant display. Rarely was his tail ever higher than his thighs, finding the action to be rather useless. Perhaps it was because he was a lone wolf and showing any type of dominance could spell disaster, so he had simply adopted the more passive stance as a way to protect himself. 

I'm always thirsty. His tongue slithered from his maw as it wrapped around his nose, slowly tracing up along it before slipping back into its moist cavern. His eyes and posture never faltering despite the encroaching of the youth stepping forward. Abaddon even smiled as the boy approached, his own special tactics of intimidation. What man in his right mind would smile when someone who is so clearly not happy with their presence approaches them? Someone sick, twisted, perverted who went against the grain, against all instincts and wolven social laws.

You're so much bigger now. I can't help but wonder if your blood is just as sweet as it was back then... or if age spoiled you. he taunted.

Every second that Abaddon kept his cool composure made the young king more nervous, his pulse beginning to race so hard his veins thrummed visibly in his neck as he tensed up. Anger flared at the boldness of the strange man's behavior though his breath caught as he watched Abaddon swipe his tongue across his maw in a manner that the teenager could only find response in through raging hormones. Paws moving of their own accord they brought him closer, his body responding to the reminder of how it had felt for the man to drink from his neck. Even as a child he'd found it strangely pleasant in sensation, the way the man's tongue had lapped against his throat. Stopping only inches away from the man, invading his space he narrowed his eyes "Yeah? Is that what's happening in that weird head of yours?" his voice was hoarse as he bared his fangs "You still owe me a taste" he growled and licked his own lips, the gesture not as smooth and practiced as Abaddon's though with the confidence he had he'd be a charmer one day.

Have you been obsessing over that for the past few months? He scoffed with a coy grin, curling his lips devilishly as his ears turned slightly with a modest expression. Watching the boy through half-lidded eyes, that hot and cold gaze. Twisting his neck just enough to show off his own neck, a prize apparently to the boy he had denied when he was younger but now, it had become something else. A desire that lingered as this boy grew older, becoming something that he must obtain even now. 

With a wayward gaze, keeping that same sultry look as he peered over to the boy. Taunting, teasing, testing his limits. The same young boy who was all fire. A young flame that flickered but never went out no matter what he opposed - granted, Abaddon only ever saw this side of him. Even with Valour so close, Abaddon continued with his little game. If he faltered now, the boy would win and all of this would go to waste. So all he had to do was play along... even if he did get bit, it would all be worth it in the end as far as he was concerned. 

He had an image to uphold now after all.

There wasn't anyone he obsessed over.

Who was in his den?

Clay.

His eyes fastened onto the curve of Abaddon's neck, moving slowly as he searched for the right spot to try and make a small clean wound such as the man had done for him. It was something that Serem had noted, his attacker had managed to simply open the skin enough for blood to stream out freely. It annoyed him to think of Clay in that particular moment. Obsession. He did not. "No" he muttered in response though he glanced at Abaddon, staring into eyes that he was smart enough to know were traps with their enticing invitation. Smart as he was the invitation pulled at something inside of him and the burning ache he'd felt earlier from Clay's public swooning sprung back into life "but I get what's owed" he growled lunging in and attempting to make as quick of a nip with his fangs as he could as he strode forward to push into the pale man's personal space limiting the area he had to use as defense. 

What's owed. Abaddon didn't owe anything to anyone. After the shit hand, he was dealt from birth, he was living the life and making the best of it despite it all. Then this boy, this boy who seemed to have at least at one point think of Vengeance, his father who had fucked and dumped plenty of women including Abaddon's mother saw him as some sort of saviour. Now, he couldn't be certain of his thoughts... but that was enough to annoy the vampire. 

Valour's growl was an easy give away to the attack, giving Abaddon just enough time to protect his neck and let his shoulder or back take the attack. A drive by bite to the boy's shoulder or leg before circling by his rear to keep hitting in little nicks and nips if the boy wasn't fast enough.

If Valour thought Abaddon would just let some newbie bite him on the neck he had another thing coming. Abaddon had practised over and over with many unfortunate casualties sacrificed for his near-perfection of the art of keeping his blood victims alive for another day. Did you really think it would be that easy?

There was still satisfaction in feeling his fangs clip down on the flesh of Abaddon's shoulder, the flesh tearing and the sharp flavor of blood burst onto his tongue though he got no time to savor it. Before he could sweep his tongue across the wound or his fangs the pale man rushed him and he turned responding off of instinct though his own shoulder took a bite. Stumbling back he snarled as the man got behind him faster than he had expected. The words were lost in a rush of red haze and he jumped away from the man his fur spiked up along his spine lips curled viciously over his fangs "Nothing ever is" he replied struggling to remain calm and took a moment to slowly lick the remnants of blood off his fangs, staring Abaddon in the eyes and deciding that the taste wasn't worth the wound recieved.


Which as he focused on pissed him off even more "Turn around and walk off or it won't end well" he threatened the fights with Memory and Santiago backing up his bold words as he stood weight shifting and muscles being tensed and untensed to prepare to react to another potential attack.

To his surprise the boy didn't continue his attack and instead gave a warning - good enough, Abaddon wasn't the type to risk his own skin for just some false pride, a possible infection, and/or a hideous scar. Live to breathe another day, his own life was far too precious to squander in some dick-measuring competition with one of his late father's followers. With a scoff and a cocky grin, he did as the boy desired, walked away and out of sight before things could get ugly...

Abaddon would remember this, and if things fell in his favour... well, the boy better hope that they never met under dire circumstances. 

Valour felt a rush as the pallid man turned and scoffed as he walked over the borders. The grin was met with a glare as he stood silent and remorseless. The man had bitten him and gotten what he'd wanted once before and Valour considered this little more than showing he'd be deadlier now if attacked. As Abaddon faded from sight he turned kicking dirt up with a grunt of disdain and walked back to Clay and his den to tend his wound.