The hiss caught his attention as intended, drawing the vampire silently in that direction with only a hasty glance around underneath his heavily drawn brow. He could smell the blood on Cassidy's hands and on the rag in them, and there was a hint of familiarity about it all that he couldn't quite put his finger on yet.
"He?" Matt questioned, eyes narrowing with a tightness around them and his short stride became more hurried as he strode after the man.
His feet stopped short at the familiar body laying on the ground before him, chest building with a sudden, incredulous fury.
"Tellement pour ton grand cheval," he growled angrily as his celerity carried him from there to here in less then a blink of an eye.
"No," he answered, voice full of his fire and restraint as he pitched the clean clothes at Cassidy's face before peeling off his jacket and throwing it to the side as he dropped to his knees. His sleeves were rolled up with the same speed he'd used to move and in a half second, they were gently lifting He Ming up.
No, Matthew's spit couldn't close what he hadn't opened, but he'd had the idea many many years ago on how to get around that. The body only need think that he was the last one to rip and tear, if he could scratch enough of the open surfaces, there was a solid chance he'd be able to heal it. Perhaps not as cleanly as his own, but enough to save He Ming's life.
"But we're not totally lost," he muttered, fangs coming out with the words. He hated doing things this way - it was only going to get messier. It was made worse by his own effects; his cock stirred in his pants, throat burning gently for fresh blood, all of which disgusted him. This was not the time for such things.
The crunch of fangs through flesh echoed in his ears, tongue following swiftly afterwards, trying his best to only get the edges of the ragged wound and not healthy, in piece flesh. He Ming's persistent gasping would stop in favor of one sharp inhale that was let out with a faint sound as he took to a more normal breathing.
A good minute passed before Matthew lifted his head, mouth and face smeared with blood in a wholly disgraceful, blatant call to what he truly was, to see his handywork.
"We need to get him to a healer, Cassidy, or risk my having missed something and him continuing to bleed into his lungs." Dark eyes finally came up, and there was something expectant about them. "I must ask - do you chew, or do you just eat them whole."
Because from where he stood, Cassidy had zero ground to stand on about Matthew's feeding habits anymore.
no subject
"He?" Matt questioned, eyes narrowing with a tightness around them and his short stride became more hurried as he strode after the man.
His feet stopped short at the familiar body laying on the ground before him, chest building with a sudden, incredulous fury.
"Tellement pour ton grand cheval," he growled angrily as his celerity carried him from there to here in less then a blink of an eye.
"No," he answered, voice full of his fire and restraint as he pitched the clean clothes at Cassidy's face before peeling off his jacket and throwing it to the side as he dropped to his knees. His sleeves were rolled up with the same speed he'd used to move and in a half second, they were gently lifting He Ming up.
No, Matthew's spit couldn't close what he hadn't opened, but he'd had the idea many many years ago on how to get around that. The body only need think that he was the last one to rip and tear, if he could scratch enough of the open surfaces, there was a solid chance he'd be able to heal it. Perhaps not as cleanly as his own, but enough to save He Ming's life.
"But we're not totally lost," he muttered, fangs coming out with the words. He hated doing things this way - it was only going to get messier. It was made worse by his own effects; his cock stirred in his pants, throat burning gently for fresh blood, all of which disgusted him. This was not the time for such things.
The crunch of fangs through flesh echoed in his ears, tongue following swiftly afterwards, trying his best to only get the edges of the ragged wound and not healthy, in piece flesh. He Ming's persistent gasping would stop in favor of one sharp inhale that was let out with a faint sound as he took to a more normal breathing.
A good minute passed before Matthew lifted his head, mouth and face smeared with blood in a wholly disgraceful, blatant call to what he truly was, to see his handywork.
"We need to get him to a healer, Cassidy, or risk my having missed something and him continuing to bleed into his lungs." Dark eyes finally came up, and there was something expectant about them. "I must ask - do you chew, or do you just eat them whole."
Because from where he stood, Cassidy had zero ground to stand on about Matthew's feeding habits anymore.