Chapter 2

He was coming back from a calm stroll down the neighbourhood at 11 pm, thinking of his most recent art participant (a short-haired red head with an abundance of freckles) when he heard it. A muffled scream that was cut off by a quick slicing sound and followed by a quiet moan.

Peering curiously around the corner of the dark alleyway next to his apartment building, he caught a glimpse of familiar white hair that looked almost silver when hit with moonlight. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the stranger was holding a knife that was glinting in the dim light in one hand and holding up a limp body with the other.

Taking a few quiet steps forward, he asked, "Need some help?" in a noncommittal tone.

The strangers' grip grew tense before relaxing, and a faint smirk could be seen playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Sure, why not? Hold her up would you; I need to get the backdoor open."

His steps emboldened with confidence, he reached out toward the body and steadied it. This close to him, he could clearly see the red that almost fully enveloped the man's predatory gaze, sending a curl of heat rushing through him.

He turned back to the body that he was keeping upright and admired the cut along the neck - it was clean with minimal mess; just a beautiful, steady stream of red flowing down to the chest.

Hearing a quiet chuckle, he looked back up only to see two fingers held in front of his mouth, both coated generously in the dark red liquid.

He glanced up at the (mostly) red eyes and managed to decipher the command within them. Leaning forward ever-so-slightly, he opened his mouth, encircling the digits and wrapping his tongue around them.

The metallic taste had him moaning around the fingers and he brought up his hand to grip at the other's wrist, holding it there as he began to suck.

The stranger watched in fascination as the other devoured the liquid on his fingers, a blistering heat starting to unfurl within him.

Stepping back, he let go of the strangers' wrist, the fingers smudging a faint red line of blood and saliva down his chin that the other stooped down to slowly lick off.

Facing the body once more, he stared blandly at the dull grey eyes and expression still twisted in horror. It neither pleased nor displeased him. He saw the corpse as nothing more than free, cheap and good-quality painting tools.

A husky voice from behind him whispered,"You can take what you like after I'm done if you want. I only need the face," hot breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

He smiled and nodded in appreciation.

"Just help me get it upstairs, okay? It's kinda heavy." The stranger said the last part in a slightly mocking voice targeted towards the sack of painting tools the other was holding up.

He yanked open the door and knelt down to take hold of the ankles. They slowly made their way through the door and up the stairs, straining their hearing to listen out for people. Luckily, they didn't encounter anyone else and made it back to his flat successfully.

It was dark and quiet; No roommate here tonight, a dark voice whispered in the back of his mind. His purple eyes darkened at the thought.

The other seemed to sense this and smiled lecherously.

They continued over to a door on his left into a well-lit, chilled room.

"Just lay it on the table over there." He gestured to the table with his head, his white fringe slipping into his eyes that had grown overly heated, enhancing the already-present red hue. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, partnered with excitement and blood lust.

The stranger wandered over to a desk and took out a small, sharpened knife and took it back over to the body. He slowly and carefully sunk it in around the edge of the face, starting at the base of the jaw, the other watching raptly.

Blood beaded at the wound before he produced a long, thin, metal stick that seemed to cauterize the wound. With this he could control the blood flow around the cut and carried on, stopping to prevent blood from staining the skin.

This went on for a further estimated hour and a half before he set down his tools and gently lifted the face (devoid of stains on the front) off of the head.

"What do you think? I'll freeze it, clean it out and paint it tomorrow." He said with a giddy lilt to his voice, clearly pleased with his work.

He had no words; he could only stare in awe. Sensing this, the stranger (but is he really?) smirked and left to put the face/mask into his freezer. When he returned, he had removed his bloodied shirt, smears of red on his abdomen reminding him of 'paint' strokes.

He glanced at the smears ravenously, licking his lips as saliva started to pool in his mouth. The 'stranger' nodded in approval and, as if some kind of bindings had been snapped, he lunged forward, fell to his knees and placed his mouth upon his stomach.

His hands came up to rasp the other's hips in a punishing grip, sure to leave bruises- which pleased him greatly- and started to suck on the bloodied flesh, producing a moan from the other. The blood had a heady metallic taste and he needed more. His tongue prodded harshly into the others' muscle, trying to tear its way beneath his flesh to the silky red fluid beneath.

Steady fingers grasped his hair and tugged, causing him to break away and look up with a frown. He was irritated at being stopped until he saw the slightly blunted scalpel in the others' hand. His gaze traveled up to their eyes and saw that they were clouded over with desire. Understanding what he was telling him, he took the scalpel and made a long, shallow cut along his hipbone.

Once he was satisfied with the length of the cut, he dropped his hand and latched onto the bloodied line with his mouth, sucking with fervour. His ministrations brought forth a loud, drawn-out moan from the other, their fingers digging into his scalp.

Simultaneously, he brought up both hands and made another cut while unzipping their jeans and cupping the bulge in their boxers.

His mind was swimming, cloudy with desire, pure hunger for the liquids dripping into his mouth and being spread beneath fabric under his hand.

The hand in his hair tugged upwards again and he glanced up. Once again, understanding what he saw in their eyes, he stood up and, mouth filled with blood, placed his lips over the others' and let it drip into his mouth while slipping his hand below his waistband and grasping the other man properly in his hand.

It wasn't a kiss, it was a transferal of the blood that they both craved, satiating their hunger together.

At the same time he but harshly into the others' lip and thumbed at his slit with equal callousness, licking at the blood that welled up from his harsh handling.

He ducked back down, giving his tip a lick in passing (his back fucking bowed) suckled at the cut again, gathering more of the red liquid into his mouth before standing again and reattaching their lips.

This process continued until he could feel the other shaking with pleasure, his grip having tightened and stopped, allowing him to thrust up into his fist. Their mouths were both stained red from the blood, both their lips having been bitten at harshly by the other - desperate to get more blood flowing between them.

The hand that had been nearly crushing the others' hip relinquished its hold and trailed into his own underwear, feverishly rubbing up and down, while he regained his pace with his other hand; he had a hunger for another liquid now.

His rushed pace continued on, the near crushing heat burning throughout him, the others' loud moaning blanketing him in arousal, before finally, finally -

It was like dam had broken, and the heat rushed out of him. As he rode his climax, he latched onto the others' lip and damn near bit a hole into it, causing them to give off one last, heady moan, before spilling into his waiting hand.

They both became overwhelmed from waves of pleasure and relief washing over them, collapsing to the floor, a tired haze enveloping them both.

Very interesting, he thought with a quiet, barely there huff of breath, not registering the mouth licking off the remnants of their climax from his hands and a narrow, predatory gaze trailing across his form as he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.