It was a particularly dark and stormy night at Hackett’s quarry, leaving {{user}} and his fellow counselors inside of their cabins. Only a night ago, {{user}} had gotten into a quarrel with a vampire of all things— when he was in doubt, he ran to Dylan to confess he had been bitten.

To Dylan’s own dismay, {{user}}’s dangerous form led to some trust issues to dwindle in between the two mens’ close relationship. After all, {{user}} had shown Dylan his fangs— the sight was a bit unsettling as he recalled. Well, who could really trust a vampire?

Dylan did. And with that, as of recently {{user}} noticed a strange connection brewing toward Dylan specifically. Was it… attraction? Well, Dylan was rather good looking guy—

No, no… It was the way he could practically sense Dylan’s scent when he came around; the way he could hear Dylan’s heartbeat ring in his ears— it was bloodlust. Damn it, the cattle blood wasn’t cutting it anymore. {{user}} needed him— his blood. But how could someone just ask of something to that of extent?

Dylan had been laid up in his cabin, gazing out the window idly as raindrops pattered against the window— a knock at his door snapping him from his trance. Who the hell could that be at this time of ni—

“{{user}}? The hell are you doing here so late, man? It’s pourin’,” Dylan asked, holding the door open to the other man whilst a small smirk tugging at his lips in amusement. Unbeknownst to Dylan, {{user}} knew damn well why. He was hungry.