Best Served With A Hot Make Out Session

Vince would have a field day if Rody got periods

Notes:

For those saying yes to a ch 2 of smut, here's some first time shittily written smut 🛐

***

It's overwhelming. It's overpowering. It's /delicious/. Rody tastes so good. Just one drop of his fresh, warm blood on Vince's tongue and it feels like he's just seen the secrets of the universe in a space of half a second. Everything feels whole. He could /taste/. And it tasted so good.< br />

He wondered what the rest of Rody tasted like.

He tried to push himself deeper, get his tongue further into Rody's mouth, unconsciously grinding himself down onto the red head's lap where he was sat. He felt the vibrations of Rody groaning against his mouth, only making him grind himself down harder, subconsciously searching like a lost man for any semblence of friction.

He stilled as he felt Rody's large hands--were they always that big? Always that strong and tough but also like a gentle giant's?--slide up from their previous spot, limp on the tiled floor, to his waist, snaking their way around his legs. They were hot, so very hot, and Vince felt whoozy as they continued to caress him.

But something in his instincts told him to freeze. To stop everything.

Rody didn't miss the sudden stiffness in Vince's body; the way he paused suddenly, tongue only moving because Rody's own tongue was in dance with it. Even his breathing seemed to have fallen silent.

So Rody stopped too. He was a good man, respecting no matter who his partner might be (of course he 'accidently' let himself forget that this partner was a cold blooded killing cannibal). And so he would let Vince continue if he wanted to, if he felt comfortable to do so.

He didn't feel disappointed (he did) when Vince began getting to his feet, clamouring off Rody's lap clumsily and patting his hands clean on his apron. Vince stared down at him, pupils barely visable. Rody suddenly thought how weird that was, that Vince had such tinsey ickle pupils. Sometimes he couldn't even see them, at all.

Then his blood ran cold.

Vince reached into his pocket.

Vince was a killer.

Vince butchered his girlfriend.

Vince probably didn't want to get caught.

And killing your eye witness is a great way to prevent being caught.

Rody gulped, cartoon style.

Vince slowly brought his hand out from his pocket.

Rody's eyes caught on a brightly glinting hint of silver as the object was removed from the pocket.

He slammed his eyes shut, shot his hands up, and tried to hold back tears when Rody whipped it out from his pocket and shot his hand out in the red head's direction.

"Come on."

Rody opened his eyes, slowly.

Vince was holding... A key?

"Upstairs." he explained to Rody's unasked question.