[Words try to come out. He is not even certain which words, only that they get stuck in his throat.
With blind hunger, he reaches for the cup; his fingers scrabble a bit, embarrassingly, as he brings it to his face and gulps at it.
It is a disgusting act, fundamentally. The mild loss of composure feels like a humiliation he cannot bear. But the blood itself is an improvement: not yet dead, fresh from a living vein, given to him, to help him...
It's not perfect. It's like seeing a friend by chance but knowing you only have a few seconds before you go your separate ways. But it's better.
He loves his friends. The vampire part of him loves his friends to death.
When the blood's dissppeared, an inhumanly long tongue comes out -- not all the way, just enough to swipe the inside of the cup. Then, reddened vampire eyes lock onto the open wound of Jonathan's.
He could cauterize that chemically, rather than with fire, Sherlock wants to say. He cannot say it. All that comes out is a vague noise, made in the direction of Jonathan's wrist.
Sherlock wants to lock his jaw onto it. Instinct tells him to. Other instinct tells him he must not. For the moment, he's frozen.]
no subject
With blind hunger, he reaches for the cup; his fingers scrabble a bit, embarrassingly, as he brings it to his face and gulps at it.
It is a disgusting act, fundamentally. The mild loss of composure feels like a humiliation he cannot bear. But the blood itself is an improvement: not yet dead, fresh from a living vein, given to him, to help him...
It's not perfect. It's like seeing a friend by chance but knowing you only have a few seconds before you go your separate ways. But it's better.
He loves his friends. The vampire part of him loves his friends to death.
When the blood's dissppeared, an inhumanly long tongue comes out -- not all the way, just enough to swipe the inside of the cup. Then, reddened vampire eyes lock onto the open wound of Jonathan's.
He could cauterize that chemically, rather than with fire, Sherlock wants to say. He cannot say it. All that comes out is a vague noise, made in the direction of Jonathan's wrist.
Sherlock wants to lock his jaw onto it. Instinct tells him to. Other instinct tells him he must not. For the moment, he's frozen.]