Chebobik
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ᛑᛗᛛ
III’s body reacted before his brain could catch up. His hand finding Vessel’s chest almost automatically, then sliding down to his side, fingertips dragging over ribs, waist, hip.
A silent worship of the perfect figure above him.
Vessel’s hand came up to III’s mask, fingers hooking under the edge near his jaw. Fingers warm, slightly damp with sweat, and they tugged at the mask—pulling him closer, tilting his face up.
III moved his fingers fast in an inviting gesture towards Vessel; come on, bastard, come closer, lay on me, take me, devour me for all I care.
ᛑᛗᛛ
Bookmarked by Chebobik
29 May 2026
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As II cleans the studio, righting all his wrongs, an idea begins to formulate in his mind. It continues to bloom until it's a physical shape behind his eyes, so strong he swears he can already see its outline on the blank canvas in front of him. Whatever it ends up being, it needs to be unique. Something he can confidently say no one has ever created before.
His magnum opus. A swansong that he’ll remember long after his vision has left him.
-or-
II is a painter who is slowly losing his vision. Vessel, against all better judgement, decides to be his model for one last portrait.
Bookmarked by Chebobik
08 May 2026
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The moment the blood hits his tongue he groans, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks his teeth further. Vessel is certain this is the best he has ever had. He tastes like nothing he has ever encountered in his hundred-something years of hunting. Like berries and wine. Sugar and incense, flickering candlelight.
This man isn't a victim, he's a challenge.Or
Sleep made Vessel a vampire. Then II comes along, and Vessel has no clue what to do with him.
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Bookmarked by Chebobik
08 May 2026