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There was something about Clown, standing over a fresh body, illuminated only by the light of the moon. Dressed in blood, heaving, and muscles tense. Branzy couldn’t see the weapon of choice for this hunt, hidden as it was in the tall grass. Or perhaps it was still in the body. He doesn’t know, and doesn’t really care much.
He steps forward, a crunch of grass alerting the killer to where he was located. If this was any other time, back when they first discovered who the other was, back when Branzy didn’t trust Clown with his life, he’d have frozen, maybe even fled. But this wasn’t then, and he couldn’t be more thankful for it.
Because Clown was… stars, he doesn’t have the words to describe how he looks.
Dressed, drenched, covered, doused, whatever the word, that’s Clown. Clown, who had turned to him, standing tall with his head tilted down to look at Branzy. Clown, who didn’t move, simply continued to breathe heavily until it softened to something even he struggled to pick up.
(He released a breath. He doesn’t even know when he inhaled - it’s usually something so conscious that he can catch it everytime.
He didn’t this time.)
Branzy takes a step forward. The smell of blood beckons him ever closer, the sight of Clown all the more enticing. And who was he to refuse? He’s just a vampire, just a man. He stops only a foot away, staring up at him.
It’s silent. The animals have long since called uncle and ran, leaving an empty forest with only two inhabitants. Not even the wind is blowing, not even the bugs so much as move.
His eyes trace the lifeless human. He got her good - a bloody mess, more so than usual, dismembered and gutted and ruined beyond imagination. Fighting the urge to kneel, to bite into her flesh, to lick the blood from her, to consume, he drags his gaze back to Clown.
Clown, who had been suspiciously silent. Branzy lets a smile cross his face, lets the chuckle out of his throat. “My my! You’ve outdone yourself this time Clown! Was this all for me?”
A nod, a hand twitching at his sides, hunching in on himself. Branzy keeps smiling; this was normal, nothing was strange about this. The other was always a little… what’s the word… inhuman after a kill. Not that Branzy blames him, he’s the same way after all! He has more of an excuse, being a vampire and all that, but he absolutely cannot blame Clown for acting this way.
“Thank you,” he begins to say, reaching a hand up to hold Clown’s face. His mask, really, but it’s all the same to him now. The man leans into the touch as Branzy wipes a thumb over one of the various blood splatters on him. “It looks beautiful on you.”
He takes the hand away, licking the blood off his thumb. Oh! Oh this was good - O? Maybe O-? It must be, for how utterly amazing it tastes. Clown really knows how to pick them. Standing on his tiptoes, for the other seems to be ridiculously tall for a human, he presses a kiss into the side of his mask.
A hand wrapping around his waist is all the warning he gets before he’s being kissed properly. How Clown moved fast enough to take off his mask and tilt his head for their lips to meet, he has no clue, but he’s not compla-
Oh. Oh.
Something wet enters his mouth. A thick liquid, tasting of something delicious with undertones of iron and metal and-
He melts into the kiss, pressing closer, licking Clown’s lips and grabbing onto his hair. He wants to laugh, or cry, or melt into a puddle and let the other do whatever they want to him because he-
(When he first met the killer, he never thought this would happen. Pressed together under the moon’s light, a body quite literally at their feet, knowing and hearing and feeling only each other. Is this what pure bliss felt like? Is this what the afterlife felt like? Oh, if this was in his afterlife, he’d be killed by a hunter any day of the week.
If it means Clown, this- this man who Branzy loves with all his heart, is there, he’d die again happily.)
-How Branzy didn’t notice it earlier, he has no clue. Well, he does, because he’d miss anything if Clown was even in a 5 mile radius from him, but he can picture it so clearly in his mind now. A piece of flesh missing from her neck, blood pouring out of it.
Clown, this killer, his killer, had just-
Taken a bite out of her, and kept the blood in his mouth, only to give it to him. Him. To Branzy.
He bit into someone and drank their blood. For him.
Branzy tightens his grip in the other’s hair, practically yanking his hair out from how desperate he was to get closer to him. He only barely stops himself from biting into Clown’s lip, sating himself by licking into the other’s mouth instead, gathering the rest of the blood.
Clown simply laughs before pulling away - not much, just enough for him to catch his breath, practically able to taste Branzy’s lips from how close they still were.
“Did you like my gift, Branzy?”
“If I wasn’t so in love with you, I’d drain you for assuming I didn’t.”
“Oh? In love? Then why don’t you,” he presses a soft kiss to his lips, smiling. “Kiss me again?”
And he does.