Haunted Wood Suck Shit and Try to Die

Valour turns to him and suddenly everything was wildfire. Orange and red bleeding together. Heat. Ferocity. Blazing and unkept; yet another surprise to the young prince which leads him to question that perhaps he didn't know Valour as well as he did. 

Or maybe he was the man's catalyst.

He doesn't like the feeling that brings.

Licking his lips he breathes shallowly, breath rustling the whiskers of the man that confuses him. The man that was so close it wouldnt take more than a step to kiss him. But... Was it the fear making him thirsty? The snarl? Valour wouldn't hurt him but even so... he feels it just below his skin. The beating of his heart, the tired in his legs. And something more. 

He ignores the first question, not wanting to admit he's lying. 

"So, I can do this." He mutters in a hushed tone before closing his eyes and slowly leaning in, rubbing his nose at the underline of Valours jaw. A kiss he supposes, a real one—not a nose smash. But its cold and gentle and He's surprised at the softness of the nightwalkers fur, the heavy scent and... the smell of hurt?  He wants to ignore it. Perhaps he should. 

But..

He noses down the mans neck in question, nose poking at the fur, parting it and breathing in his rich scent till he finds the fresh duo of holes. They're not even scabbed over, and clay wonders who did this.

Who hurt his Valour? 

The jealousy is a new feeling, and it makes him want to mark his own pair of wounds into the male. Perhaps over the existing ones so that he may claim he was the one. He wants to. 

So he does— clamping onto and slotting his fangs into the open wounds. His teeth aren't as big, but they tear the clots open enough for him to feel the snugness and the warmth that pools over his tongue.

He can't help but let out a small purr-like noise.