The Floodlands Don't get hot and flustered

@Dawson

The fawn had proved difficult to catch. Normally such small young things were easy to catch, especially in the midst of spring when they had just been born. With this information in mind, supported by years and years of evidence, he began the hunt. But something had gone wrong. Too many variables. He had taken a decent nip out of the young creature's flank, for all it was worth.

Maybe it was the terrain, unfamiliar and wet as it was.

Maybe he was too cocky, and should have been more cautious in his stalking.

Maybe he was getting old.

What blood he did take dripped from his mouth. He savored it, letting out a delighted groan as the flavor hit his tongue. That small taste enraged him, for he knew he could have been privy to more had he not been so careless. He licked over his mouth, between his teeth, and began searching for droplets on the ground near him, suddenly becoming ravenous with both rage and lust.

Things seemed to slow for the progress he wanted with Corra, and it was growing harder for him to feel the need to court her- 'You are NOT courting her, Dawson. You are to bring her back home, regroup, and revisit. That is the plan. Stick to the plan.' Vehement reinforce of his plans. It seemed as hard as he tried to stick to it, however, he reverted back like some desperate and incompetent fool. He was an Odolf, herald of the legacy! There was discipline in him, engraved in his very making- 

But where lie all your gods when you made them up?

The ivory and cream serpent snaked a pattern in the elken trail, hoping to stir up some game. Various rodents and smaller scurriers flew past him with livid speeds, but he did not bother to pursue them. Bitterly, he knew how both lupines needed something much larger than rabbits and patridges every other day. Not that he was attempting to impress her, or anything. He could not have been. 
He better not have been.

A fellow looked up ahead, seeming to scout the grounds with such fevor that he grew admired. A pair of testicles hung adamantly beneath an obsidian striped banner baked in prime albaster. Dapper and clean. Male. He relaxed, hoping this would be a potential hunting ally, or even a guide to inform him wherever the hell he might have wandered. 

"Hail," he greeted and alerted the seeking male out, less honey and silk in his voice than had he been trying to swoon a woman. "Up for a hunt?" it was short and sweet, as he hoped to waste neither of their time. The male seemed young, limber and not necessarily small, but not built with the obvious bulk that came with a lifetime of fighting for you life. Too many males he had seen, his brothers, included, were seemingly just large for no reason other than genetics. Yet if that was what survived and thrived, who was he to question Darwin's law?

"Or do you know where we might stand?" a better question for someoone not up for seeking out a meal. Options atleast were offered. Ceruleans scanned the male, clear blue's holding some sort of reserve in their watery depths. He certainly hoped this male was not hostile- he was not built for the wars his brothers sought to win, and most often did.

He felt his body throbbing, his heart still beating long after the hunt was over. It was an annoying sensation, to be aroused without satisfaction, especially after he had gotten his hopes up. The hunger gnawed at him, both viscerally and mentally, an urge unfulfilled. He growled in irritation. He had faced such an emotion before, but with his encroaching age the sensation only grew more and more frequent. 

He had been focused on the sheer audacity of that revelation when the man hailed him. Athan's head wanted to jerk towards him, but he forced himself to slowly move his head. He licked his lips one last time as he stared the man down. Could he? He stood up straight, trying to look less feral. I'd like to hunt you, if you wouldn't mind? He said, the words coming out matter-of-factly, as if it wasn't an odd thing to have another wolf hunt you down. He stared at the man burning desire in his eyes as he waited for the man's response.

Confusion had lasted all of about the entire time he stared at this strang male, this suave yet savage fellow lupine. Something about him screamed  murder, while another screamed-
kin.

“I’d rather you not-“ he coursed the rough wave over smooth sands with little effort as the confusion began to fade. “Unless you have plans to keep me alive, should you win.” The second half of the deal was punctuated with a smirk he hadn’t planned to illustrate. Since when had he dared become a playful devil?

Charm washed into those crystalline blues as he felt himself growing eager for this game of dangerous tag. He hadn’t ever romped around with strangers before, and found himself wanting for this dashing gent to take the invite. He needed to let his hair down every now and then, too, did he not? It would ail a man should he be duty-bound all his life.

He was genuinely surprised to hear that the wolf took his offer seriously. He chuckled, his fortunes changing. The fawn had slipped through his grasp, but he could still get a meal today. The ache that he felt before had alleviated slightly, shifting with the adrenaline that began to course through his veins.

Oh, I won't kill you, — though he really, really wanted to — I will bite you though, if I win. He grinned, a show of what was to come. Nonlethally, I promise. And he would keep his promise. He would get a bit of what he wanted, hopefully enough to satiate him — but he didn't have to kill to get his fill.

He took a step back, allowing for the wolf to pick a direction of his choosing. So then? He gestured with his head. You can have a head start.

What an odd trophy- a single bite? Hopefully not to castrate. Such dangerous terms to play upon, but who was to claim he was not going to win? The competition heated up only to simmer as he concocted his own prize. “And should I win, you join us in our travels.” Adrenaline began to spark a skip in his heart, bleating a beat faster, harder, and forging smooth muscles into tense tendons and marble springs. 
He was ready. “No need for permanent reside, should you grow tired of our band,” And with that, he wast off-

well perhaps he wasted a good majority of his head start time, but it was worthwhile in terms of leverage. He did in fact wish to see what this pale male was made of. He seemed quite young, and he supposed with supple meat involved, he would make a great potential for Rosings.
He had not yet beein informed of Rosing’s actually being moved back home, but he was sticking to his ignorant plan, regardless. 

A dashing turn through trees and brambles alike, he tried his utmost not to be targeted by the amethyst eyed counterpart- winter topaz searches for the best trails, scheming things that might seem inconvenient to cross and more of a difficult leap for his pursuit. 
Yet he tried, regardless.

Athan barely paid attention to the man's part of the bargain. He was already riled up, and now too confident in himself to care whether or not the man would win. He simply nodded, his muscles twitching as he waited for the male to run already. Deal, he said, barely controlled excitement tinging his voice. 

And he did. Athan was glad that he wasn't dilly-dallying. He wasn't sure how much longer he could just stand there. He waited for a moment, with the control of time now in his hands. He let the male scamper off into the woods and after a moment, he trotted after him, following his quarry at a conserved pace.

His lungs pumped hearty and full as he flung himself over different obstacles as if it were he who chased the other through the thick thicket which he seemingly sprouted wings and flew throughout. His mind had gone blank for once, free of the coils and cogs he had kept oiled and ready for whatever victim of his manipulation needed to hear or feel. He was in bliss, and enjoyed this absence so well that he had completely lost himself in the run. The Odolf was high on this type of life. Corra had completely vanished from his lst, a pearlene haze that drifted and blew free as a single exhale would have, his own ovory and gold chest bursting through the plume with no second thought.

As he got a sense for the trail that the wolf was taking, the broken branches and trampled grass leading the way. Athan upped his pace, not yet in a full sprint, but ready for a sudden change in direction. His tongue lolled, delight pushing his muscles forward. Nearly nearly. He could imagine the man's taste on his tongue already.

All was well. The thick gusts pouring through his fur, pink mouth partially agape, tongue out and tasting the chill of the day. He was a graceful thing, nimble and vivid yet a blur as he gave his all into this dash through the hemlock and firs. There, and then gone.

But it seemed the forest had conspired with fate, and time began to turn on itself as Karma came to reap her due. Pine needles rose from a startled flock of midwestern partridges, and with both feathers aflutter and the fragments of dirt, particulates thrust unforgivingly into the sea serpents brilliant and seductive blues.
His step missed its mark as went blind-

and across a fallen log, the man fell. 

Rushing to his fours, it soon became three as he fought to pull the chips and splinters from his eyes. Deftly wiping and smudging, thumbclaw frantically tried to scratch off what he could. But it was to no avail! He would never lay eyes on not even a basic wench, now- 

Paw steps closed in-

how close was this man? Had he lost him? Impossible-

The sea serpent felt anxiety as he lost his role as a predator, and was flung into the niche of prey.

@Dawson slight pp here

The wolf ahead of him came closer into view, though he was still far off into the distance. Athan kept his pace, watching, waiting, not yet willing to expend his energy — waiting for a moment, an opportunity — there! His heart leapt as he saw the man trip over a log, debris creating a dust pile around the ivory man's visage. Ha! he barked, more a pant than a laugh. He took that opportunity to go into a sprint, rushing the man and bowling him over before he had the chance to right himself and keep moving. 

Athan kept his body weight pressed on top of the prone male's form, hoping to trap him. I've won, draga mea, Athanasius grinned over the stranger — his prey. His voice barely contained his excitement, his lust, trembling as he slipped into his tongue. He bent his head down to the man's neck, lavishing foreboding kisses on his prize.

that’s fine hun- it’s all yours~

---

Fuck- his eyes burned. It was only a matter of time before they started to sting, and it was clear he was doing more damage than dislodgement. Just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse, his world spin around, and he found himself lost even more in the galled piles of mulched and dried flasks of dead flora. But he could smell the pursuant, feel him, as he stood atop of him with poise he couldn’t see. Any general wisp of air between their bodies told Dawson that he was in fact locked in place at the hold Athan chose to use on him. But the man has caught him- and a deal was a deal. Or was it...?

”You have!” He exclaimed with surprised glee. “Two out of three...?” His voice that was once a deep drum of milk and honey to woman about him in Rosings quaked in the embrace of this unseen menace. It was a clear he wasn’t attempting to appear fearful, but surely the shaking of his outer thighs against the mans inners told no lie. 

Tongue rasped over the side of his neck, unbelievably tender and loving for the awful intent to come. But it eased the serpent into another attempt to slither out of this predicament. “Surely you would rather a much longer run?” The man spike more than one language even! He had to be more sophisticated than winning in one round, yes?
Right?
...right?...

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Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: vampire bites and death

He was not surprised by the man's pleading. He had a chance of leaving, of surviving this encounter unscathed. Perhaps the man thought that he would escape bite free. But fate had turned against him. And in Athan's favor. Athan's heart pounded. He pressed his body harder against his prey, his body burning, strong in his loins, even stronger in his stomach and mouth. No, he rumbled, pressing a hard kiss to the man's neck. No. he said it firmer as his prey tried to bargain. He locked eyes with him. This is fine.

Athan looked down at the ivory man's neck, a decision being made. The promise that he had made — nonlethally — was lost to the wind. He had not been lying. He was a man of his word. But when his body took old of his mind, as it had now, it was hard to keep together his persona of the gentleman vampire, the aristocrat. He had lost one target today already — he would not lose this one. He would take everything from him.

Before his prey could make another move, he struck at the man's neck, his fangs piercing deep. A bloom of blood rushed into his mouth. Athan moaned in delight, his body shivering on top of his prey. With that first taste, he bit deeper, harder, searching for more and finding it deeper in the man's neck.

A general cry of loss was heard as Dawson’s mind came to terms with what was happening. In the position he was in, he could not flail, nor throw his body in any way that would have him any fighting chance at survival. It was a cry of knowing death would be coming soon that he was not yet ready for. He had no mate, no spawn- he had done the Odolf name ruin by participating in this gamble. Even behind closed lids, he could see a darkness coming, and his breath increased, heart pounded against a pale set of caging ribs, fighting to figure out how to stop the darkness that speckled and seeped through limbs that no longer wanted to fight as much. He was feeling the seeping happening, and it almost hadn’t registered that the man had bitten him. It was nearly an embrace, a cold one, as this man was given a violently gentle passing into the always open arms of Death. 

Dawson could not ignore the hug...

and it was not long before he hugged back, and released his final sigh into the pale down of the Reaper who had led him there.

For a few moments Athanasius was just as lost as Dawson, locked in an embrace that not even the closest of lovers could even hope to achieve. The intimacy of death — the death of one of your own species — was a forbidden thing, and it was something that he was glad that he indulged in. He was entranced as the man stiffened, struggling slightly. Athan shivered as he heard the man's final gasp, but he remained locked on until the heartbeat slowed and slowed and slowed and finally stopped. Only then, with great reluctance, did Athan let go, gasping, staggering. He was weak as his body tried to simultaneously collect itself and relish in the death that he had experienced firsthand, almost personally.

There was still more to be had, he noted as his brain struggled into something like coherency. He was soaked in blood now, the viscous fluid seeping deep into his ivory fur, staining his jaw, throat, and parts of his chest. He needed to drink more before the blood congealed. With a quivering gasp, he dove back at the dead man's throat, still voracious.

@Dawson, I assume a fade out is good here?