Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Brad's Survival Arc: Part 4

Brad was getting antsy.

Marshall could tell in the way his friend's body language and mannerisms changed over time: he'd stare into space with his gaze fixated on random points near his feet; sitting down was usually accompanied by a leg silently bouncing up and down in a jittery manner; his fingers would drum against his thighs or arms, as if he were searching for some form of distraction; he sometimes made a habit of quietly pacing downstairs in the middle of the night before moving to sit outside, either on the porch steps, the swing, or on the hood of one of the cars, for hours at a time to get some much needed fresh air.

Being too close to anyone with a beating heart, despite their wolf genes and conventionally off-putting scents, was becoming more difficult. A natural fragrance of wet dog could only override the aroma of fresh, warm blood so much. An overwhelming desire to feed, accompanied by a heightened sense of smell still regarded as too novel for proper adjustment, was a bad mix to a newborn vampire.

Brad hadn't claimed he wanted to rip into something that could bleed yet.

Though, a habit of massaging his throat when he believed no one to be looking was always caught by another vigilant vampire. He also caught on rather quickly to rushed steps taken out of a room if company came over. 

And then there was the undeniable fact of his bright red eyes becoming darker with every passing day.

At first, Marshall wanted to wait for Brad to come to him—to admit he was feeling peckish and wanted something to eat.

Brad's unwillingness to do so possibly meant, a) he didn't fully comprehend his body's silent cues just yet, b) he was embarrassed about his very apparent hunger, c) he wasn't sure how to vocally make his needs heard, or d) he didn't want to burden anyone with his issues.

Either way, Marshall wasn't going to let his friend go hungry when a remedy was available for him.

So, after throwing on a set of clothes he had no qualms in getting dirty, Marshall exited his bedroom to head downstairs.

His own throat began burning with great intensity the night before while Paul was sleeping. Since then, Marshall had been more than tempted to take an indulgent bite.

Doing so for the first time was really a means of saving the wolf's life. Still, the vampire couldn't ignore how much he longed for another taste. How much he ached and yearned to drain his lover. Not enough to bring alarm to his health or anything like that, of course. Marshall just...really wanted to experience what it would be like to almost painlessly rip a gash into beautiful tan skin, painting it red. He also wanted to experience what it would be like for Paul to get fed off of, this time while completely awake and lucid so he could feel everything.

The act of having blood drawn would render him breathless, a bit dizzy, and tingly all over. He would undoubtedly become limp and pliant, readily accessible for Marshall to take whatever he wanted and, with permission, do whatever he wanted.

That specific thought process alone changed Marshall's feeling of hunger from mild to downright insatiable. Another reason why he believed grabbing a snack was necessary right now.

As he got downstairs, he caught sight of Brad watching a soccer game with unfocused eyes. His absent expression further shed light on him being mentally distracted since he loved watching sports with great excitement. Whether it be soccer, basketball, American football, or ice skating, Brad got competitive while donning the role of spectator. Not even offering a delighted shout when Spain's national team scored a goal was a bit concerning.

Paul was in the middle of eating a plate full of homemade croquetas at the dining table. One hand was occupied by a deep fried snack, while his other was used to hold his phone. He scrolled lazily, blinking slowly while taking in whatever media was displayed on his screen.