Deepwood Weald the dirty [m]

As the rush of dopamine flooded his veins, the young man felt the beautiful head rush that he sought for every time he drank the blood of another. What a beautiful feeling, he simply could not get enough of it! The taboo of drinking another wolf's blood was exciting enough on its own, to do it in the shadows, in the privacy between himself and willing victims to his deviancy. 

Dual colored orbs flickered back to his companion as he spoke, and he couldn't help but offer a toothy grin in response. What a sick fuck. All horned up after getting bit and drained of some blood. Abaddon couldn't completely fault him for it. Excited? For what? He teased instead, obviously feigning ignorance as he wanted his nameless companion to speak his mind.

But of course, he knew what they meant, even if he was mistaken by their suggestive tone and words - Abaddon was already feeling the blood rush somewhere else. Already a new sin was occupying his mind.