(no subject)

[bywhiteskin.livejournal.com]

When; 18 June - 9:xxPM
Rating; R -- Language, Violence. Vampirism, eyeball gouging, all of that joyous content.
Characters; The Corinthian (bitingnightmare) and Közi (bywhiteskin)
Summary; Revenge is claimed for the recent attacks--blood for an eye.
Log;

Fun after sunset, that's what the Corinthian was hoping for. He only said that it was for the redhead's sake, for her dignity, but Cori knew better. The nightmare had no problem admitting it to himself; he wanted to hunt for the shits and giggles. A little investigative work led him to the roof tops of the city, a solitary place for anyone, human or vampire.

He sucked down the remainder of his cigarette, aware that the scent alone could alert others of his presence. Hell his hair was white enough to be conspicuous, but his manner of dress otherwise. He wore his snug blue jeans and a white t-shirt, pale arms hidden under his leather jacket. The sunglasses hid his trademark feature.

"Come out, bat boy, I'm waiting," the Corinthian purred to himself.



Fun, indeed - Közi'd had his, and expected to pay for it - though he'd not thought vengeance would be sought so soon. Quick with the torches and pitchforks, weren't they?

The scent was the first thing he noticed. Tobacco, but it was laced with a number of additives and burning in a way far different than that of his own time. He found it bothersome. A slow turn of his head fixed red eyes to his visitor, and moments later the vampire rose, stepping from the crook he'd occupied without hesitation. It wasn't an attempt to be cocky - he merely failed to see the point in hiding when he'd already been found.

Nothing of his appearance was ordinary; from the frilled shirt tucked into breeches down to the ridiculous platform boots - back up to the half-head of red that hung in loose spirals down one side of his face. A few steps brought him nearer, and he halted.

"Never fond of bats."



Good prey knows when he's been spotted, the Corinthian praised the other man silently.

Smoke drifted from his mouths as he tossed the cancer stick onto the ground, its embers having reached the filter. Cori nodded to the thin but towering vampire. A throwback to glam rock in his opinion. He had no qualms having to look up at the man either.

"Sue me for a stereotype," the Corinthian smirked. He approached Kozi, lacking fear. Surely the redhead knew what he wanted, or did he? The white blonde upnodded once. "You can still jump if you want."



"I could leave you in an instant, without the trouble - power is no question when I am not starved."

Közi fell silent for a moment, duly regarding the man before him. No fear shone upon his own features, though he knew that he was now the hunted - and he was well aware of the fact that in this place power extending far past his own existed in forms he did not know.

But he could not die, and if pain was the worst he had to take into consideration ...

"However, I am not one to run. What is it that you want?"

He knew why he had come - it obvious enough as the faintest hint of a smirk played upon otherwise stoic features. It was just a matter of what would be claimed.



He raised both his shoulders in a shrug, his smirk widening into a grin. "I was going to give you twenty dollars to suck me off, but I see we're beyond the foreplay," the nightmare licked his lips, "the offer's still on the table."

Perhaps he was mocking the vampire, perhaps he was serious. Dark sunglasses hid the Corinthian's expression, but still he grinned.



"Something tells me that the teeth wouldn't bode entirely well, unless you're well into that sort of thing --"

But he cut himself short. His eyes narrowed briefly--never once did he look away--before continuing as calmly as he'd begun.

"Retract it and set forth your business instead."



"You wouldn't know until you try," countered the nightmare in amusement.

Eventually he huffed a sigh of feigned disappointment. No bite. He advanced towards Kozi, his hands bare of any weapon so far. The Corinthian's pale lips remained shut. "Coy, aren't we," his eyemouths rasped. He didn't specify which of the two was on the receiving end of his observation.

The nightmare ducked then lunged forth to aim his elbow up into the vampire's solar plexus. He was undead, but his body was still subject to physics, at least in theory.



Certainly, they did apply - as did the heightened sense of perception and movement that would be his aid in countering such attacks. However, he hadn't expected such a blatant onslaught, and so while he did begin to sidestep the action was not entirely avoided.

Lurching forward, though not entirely out of pain, the vampire was quick in darting a hand to the other's shoulder--that which was farther from his own form--claws digging sharply downward and torn back in an attempt to rip him aside.

Nothing that hadn't been done, so what was he thinking to do ... ?



Digging into the grain of his leather, bad form. He loved his jacket, yet the Corinthian always wore it into situations where it would risk getting battered, much like this one. Never had a target actually ripped through it, however. Tch, his hissed moreso for its loss than from the blood welling in his painful wound.

The nightmare whipped his hand out to grab the vampire's wrist before Kozi could retract it fully. Close quarter combat was Cori's specialty. He pulled on the man's arm to position himself behind it so that the heel of his other palm might smash into the vampire's elbow. To break it.

Regardless of whether he succeeded or not, the Corinthian kicked his boot out to land a blow against the redhead's knee.



Succeeded, yes - such was evident in the sickening crack that would follow the action's execution, but Közi himself was silent - he had experienced worse still. A part of his counterpart's twisted brothel, could it even be called that, as he had been for so long - a great many things had lost their effect on him.

A quiet sound did escape him at the contact of the boot to his knee, one of annoyance more than anything else as he was thrown from his balance - though he turned, despite the hold on his wrist (using it for support in that brief instant and very likely worsening the fracture, if anything), employing the leverage to angle and drive the undamaged elbow toward the Corinthian's ribs.

He had never been one for combat - never favoured it, at least - but that didn't mean that his other skills- tolerance, for instance - would not prove useful.



A quick grunt escaped the nightmare's lips when Kozi had managed to strike his ribs. Sensitive area, but he too had tolerance and like his fellow combatant, he could heal. The Corinthian could take the damage if he could use their proximity to his own advantage, just as the vampire had with those damn claws to his shoulder.

"Cunt," he growled before releasing that fractured arm to grab the other man by his red hair. He gripped hard to pull the vampire's head downward as his knee rose upward.



A muted sound of surprise, and that same arm darted blindly forth in an effort to take some hold on the leg still presently supporting to the Corinthian. He wasn't quick enough, however, and even as his nails again pierced fabric he didn't have the time to jerk forth as he'd intended - the sharp impact enough for him to relent slightly with the sting of it.



Much better. The Corinthian could feel pinpricks through his jeans (it reminded him of John, briefly) but he refused to let go this time. The vampire was taller yet with his head at waist level height mattered little to him. One second could change the entire outcome of their ordeal; he used that brief relent to his own advantage.

Cori kept one hand on Kozi and pushed forward, to get that man's back on the ground. He fished for his balisong blade with his other hand while he attempted to straddle the vampire's chest. With one arm fractured the white horror felt he had only one set of claws to worry about.



It was true - while the bone would regenerate, it wouldn't be immediate - not enough so to benefit him now, at least.

There was a fleeting moment in which Közi struggled for a different purpose - he simply could not stand to sully his clothing. When it became apparent to him that the man was searching for something, however, his movements grew rather more intent -- he thrashing upward harshly, trying to throw him off.

Unfortunately, this required the support of the undamaged arm - and so he could not put it to better use once forced into such a position. Not yet, at least - he wasn't entirely desperate just then.



"Uh uh," sounded the Corinthian as the other thrashed, nearly knocking his sunglasses off. He felt he had no need to use those teeth eyes in this battle, he could subdue the vampire without nightmares. The man would also identify him easily if he caught a glimpse of those mouths.

Of course, the entire City would hear of this eventually and pin him as the culprit, word got around too fucking fast in this place.

"You need blood that badly, boy," Cori asked under a sneer. He finally released that fist of deep red hair to slug his knuckles against his captive's jaw. With a single flip, the handles locked to reveal his knife's diamond edge, nearly six inches in length.



Eyes lidded unwillingly as his head rocked back into the concrete with a dull thud, he actually falling still for a moment at that - not quite from impact, rather at the sight of the knife itself.

Without letting them shut, red hues trailed that imposing blade - and after a moment his own lips curved into a silent smirk.

He didn't speak, arching back for but a moment to right his head against the cool stone beneath it, and then looked forward - gaze locking to those glasses, though he made no effort to see what was beneath. It wasn't his business -- truth be told, he didn't care.

His tongue darted outward, a small bit of blood licked from the corner of his own mouth, where his fang had grazed with the punch--slight curl of lip ever present.



His eyes were red. Interesting color. The Corinthian had noticed them before, but he hadn't had the time to fully study their crimson shade until now, when the vampire locked gazes. Even with his sunglasses he could see their vibrancy.

"You want more," asked the nightmare, his tone sensually dangerous. The cut across his knuckles welled, the blood from his shoulder already soaking his shirt. The Corinthian's blood scent was everywhere now, the blood of an immortal. It would have been perfect wine were it not for the subtle hint of taint in its make up. He had his lover's disease.

Knife held at the ready, and still he walked his fingertips along that curling lip.



"More? No." But your blood is different. he didn't want or need more - not for a time - but that didn't mean that he hadn't the desire to taste. This new scent, a new flavour - he could almost feel it upon his tongue, and however sweet he could distinguish that there was something sour in it even then.

Silence, and he turned his head, tongue laving once across the bleeding wound nearest his mouth.

What was permission when one was already held at knife point?



"I said you'd suck me off," the Corinthian smiled. He wiggled those fingertips, to get them into the vampire's mouth. The nightmare was completely aware that a true bite would sting, but it was worth the euphoria he imagined would follow. A pity he didn't actually have a twenty dollar bill in his pocket.



Breath - unnecessary to take, but something he'd never quite fallen out of the habit of - hitched momentarily in his throat as the blood saturated his tongue, unresponsive for a moment. I don't want this.

But actions spoke louder than words, and it wasn't long before the hand he'd formerly been using to support himself came to grip firmly at his wrist - fangs sinking into the flesh between his fingers, tearing at the skin so that the blood would flow freely - eyes lidded with the taste, the sensation - Disgusting, rotten - more.



Perfect. The nightmare tilted his head, teeth half-lidded from the sensation. They sounded their characteristic hrrsschh as the other suckled. His blood flowed like any other human's, thick and rich, but so different from other mortals. A treat to be certain, with a bitter core.

Kozi might have even felt the Corinthian start to grow hard against his chest. However it wasn't from the feeding. He brushed his thumb under the redhead's chin, disguising a firm grip to his lower jaw as simply a gesture of allowing him easier access to his hand.

Without warning, the white haired man struck. He wedged the tip of his knife under the sclera and into the socket like an expert. Of course a little damage was to be expected from an unwilling target.



The grip on his wrist tightened harshly, Közi unaware of just how hard he he held - he was only dimly conscious of the fact that his hand trembled with the strain - that his teeth were again buried into flesh and deeper than he generally allowed them, and over it all that either action had been mere reaction to a sudden, white-hot pain -- one he'd not felt before.

He gulped audibly, something of a hiss leaving him as the entirety of his form writhed slowly beneath the Corinthian - there was another sound, something low in his throat that was muffled against his hand, drowned out by the steady flow of blood he continued to claim even then.

He twisted his hand unwillingly about the appendage it so firmly held, unaware of the skin fast bruising beneath his fingertips. His back had arched when he'd initially begun to squirm, lifting both his form and the other's, and he'd frozen as such.

The vampire felt something, but he wasn't sure what - and the fact that it was not panic was enough to disturb him greatly.



The Corinthian tolerated the grip to his hand, the nails digging into his skin. His body could take it, like the vampire he would regenerate in time. All of it was worth the red jewel he oh so eagerly worked to cut from the man's face. Cori leaned forward to bear his weight on Kozi's feeding mouth, the better to keep his head steady, the better to muffle his sounds.

His knife severed the muscles and nerves behind his right eyeball. Any regular human would have found that side of their vision gone blind by now. Maybe not so for the vampire, maybe so after all. With deft fingers he kept the balisong cradled in his palm while his pale tips reached in to gouge the rest of it out. Not a drop of vitreous humor spilled.



Not so - and his eyes stayed wide, transfixed, until the point at which that vision did blacken - after which he sought to squeeze them tightly shut. Realization, perhaps - of what had happen, what he'd practically allowed to happen - and all for the sake of that now thick upon his tongue, flooding the sides of his mouth, staining his teeth so ugly and rusty a colour.

And he could feel the unfamiliar warmth of the recent feed at the corner of what had been his eye - could hear every sickening shift of the other's fingers where they worked until it was no longer his own - and he would have gasped, were he not so unwilling to break that hold.



"Fun time's over," hissed the nightmare, prize in hand. He felt the urge to carve out the other one, for cruelty and lust's sake.

Like the vampire the temptation to overindulge ran deep. Christ he'd do it if he could free his other hand. The nerves there tingled, flesh exposed and laid out on a fucking platter for Kozi. It was a mere matter of inconvenience. Not enough hands, not enough time, and neither would he risk damaging the red one he'd already obtained.

So Cori carefully gripped his blade, eyeball squeezed but not crushed in his palm. That knife dug between Kozi's lips with little care for his own safety, as long as he could get that vampire to release him.



He did - red lips further stained so with his blood parting with a low groan now lost to the air between them as he slumped back, the absence of that overpowering taste enough to bring him back to his senses - at least, somewhat - tongue undulating once against empty air.

"It will only come back," he hissed, voice low and thick within the dark, unlike what tone he'd used before. Lord only knew how long it would take, had ever he actually cut out such a thing? No -- but he'd never not recovered from anything else in enough time.

It hurt - and he was aware of it now, and he tore his hand from the Corinthian's to dig his fingers harshly into the surface beneath him - ignoring the splintering of his own nails as the fleshy tips themselves pressured the stone to recede.



"In time," countered the Corinthian. During his stay in the City he'd seen eyes regenerate from anywhere between three days to three weeks.

His own tone dripped with want, to go further, to see how much this vampire could endure, but he steeled himself. No more. To pursue would be to give in, and the Corinthian had already submitted to his desires enough. He tucked both knife and eye away in his pocket.

"Hn," sounded Cori as he studied the damage Kozi had done to his hand. Not bad at all. He was missing a small piece of flesh between his middle and ring finger. The nightmare said nothing as he rose to his feet then stepped over the redhead, away from him lest he suddenly gain a second wind and attack.



"You want more --" and yes, he was mocking him -- or perhaps himself, he wasn't sure at this point. The vampire wouldn't attack again. The shock of the situation, vague as it was, was slowly settling over him - but as he did not to most things, he couldn't seem to bring himself to react.

Perhaps when he was alone again - perhaps when the pain of regenerating something in full came to light.

He forced himself to relax, the tension not quite seeping from his muscles even as he did come to rest flat.



"I have what I want," said the Corinthian, his voice low and cool. He wiped at the corner of his mouth with a blood stained hand, fully aware of that mocking tone. Most immortals, be it nightmare or undead, had a cocky streak in them.

"Have fun being ugly," Cori waved his mangled fingers, the gesture an attempt to eclipse the truth of Kozi's statement. Just like that he started to walk away, the ordeal over.



But he knew it to be so -- in one sense or the other -- and so he did little more than grin. Soon enough after the other had gone the man lifted himself, sitting up only to lurch forth somewhat with a quiet groan. Overfed - sore, and with unfamiliar blood that he wasn't entirely sure his system would accept.

The hand that was still functional rose slowly to cover the now empty eye socket, trembling against the moisture there he knew to be blood - and it was sooner rather than later that he simply disappeared from view. Strange that he had neglected to do it in the first place, but he had never been one to run away - that, or he was still trying, despite himself, to accomplish that which he knew none could.