There it was. Aomine's fear, raw and sharp and almost comical, clear to see in his face and in every straining line of his body, the shudder that ran down his spine and made him shake right in front of Tim's eyes. The thought that he might be a vampire had the other boy more scared than anything else, even the blood and bullet holes and threats to kill him. It must have been some kind of instinctive fear, maybe some belief in ghosts and monsters that Aomine hadn't grown out of yet.
"You don't get to tell me what to do," he rejected the protest not to touch Aomine flatly, moving his hand to keep touching the side of his neck, at first. Then he quickly slid his fingers round and up, over the nape of Aomine's neck and into his hair, and gripped tightly.
Aomine was so afraid that he might be a vampire, even though he'd all but said he wasn't.
Aomine, who constantly made derisive comments about him that no-one else could understand.
Aomine, who kept finding ways to trip him, or jam an elbow or knee into him. Who had spilled drinks or food onto him, just because he could.
Aomine, who had stolen his lunch for the past month solid... was deathly afraid of vampires.
"Plenty of people want to be bitten by vampires. There must be something appealing about it. Something... romantic, don't you think? They're always written to be kind of - erotic." It was true. Even before the romance novel trend of writing soft, goodhearted vampires to sweep women off their feet, the vampire narrative had been laced through with eroticism. Blood and sex, intertwined. He didn't have much time to himself, and spent even less of it reading vampire novels, but he knew that much.
"Maybe it's because the neck is such a vulnerable spot for you humans. Did you know, the skin there is so sensitive that, for most people, it's an erogenous zone?" As he spoke, low and soft, he inched slowly closer, until he could just - stand up on his tip toes, and bite the side of Aomine's neck. Just gently, and then he sucked on the skin a little, too.
Meanwhile, the tentacles must have been reacting to Aomine pulling against them. There wasn't any other reason for one of them slipping between the buttons of his shirt and under the fabric, sliding over the skin of his chest to coil around him, the cool, ridged metal rubbing over one of his nipples in the process.
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Date: 2014-06-27 05:05 pm (UTC)"You don't get to tell me what to do," he rejected the protest not to touch Aomine flatly, moving his hand to keep touching the side of his neck, at first. Then he quickly slid his fingers round and up, over the nape of Aomine's neck and into his hair, and gripped tightly.
Aomine was so afraid that he might be a vampire, even though he'd all but said he wasn't.
Aomine, who constantly made derisive comments about him that no-one else could understand.
Aomine, who kept finding ways to trip him, or jam an elbow or knee into him. Who had spilled drinks or food onto him, just because he could.
Aomine, who had stolen his lunch for the past month solid... was deathly afraid of vampires.
"Plenty of people want to be bitten by vampires. There must be something appealing about it. Something... romantic, don't you think? They're always written to be kind of - erotic." It was true. Even before the romance novel trend of writing soft, goodhearted vampires to sweep women off their feet, the vampire narrative had been laced through with eroticism. Blood and sex, intertwined. He didn't have much time to himself, and spent even less of it reading vampire novels, but he knew that much.
"Maybe it's because the neck is such a vulnerable spot for you humans. Did you know, the skin there is so sensitive that, for most people, it's an erogenous zone?" As he spoke, low and soft, he inched slowly closer, until he could just - stand up on his tip toes, and bite the side of Aomine's neck. Just gently, and then he sucked on the skin a little, too.
Meanwhile, the tentacles must have been reacting to Aomine pulling against them. There wasn't any other reason for one of them slipping between the buttons of his shirt and under the fabric, sliding over the skin of his chest to coil around him, the cool, ridged metal rubbing over one of his nipples in the process.
No other reason at all.