♪ Taemin watched the male as he moved with a sort of gracefulness towards his sofa, his eyes never leaving the male’s figure even as he sat down. The words that left his lips had Taemin fumbling a bit with the glass in his hands and he quickly set it in the sink in case he dropped it down, he didn’t want to have a mess to clean up because of his carelessness. “Ah..” He started, voice so soft he wasn’t even sure the other could hear it from where he was at. Why would him being squeamish have to do with this trade? A voice at the back of his mind was telling him that this was a bad idea, to accept a trade with a stranger he barely knew. Although the male’s voice had a sort of smoothness to it— the kind that was reassuring enough in the words he said. Taemin briefly glanced at the clock before he strode over to the couch, only slight hesitation was there before he sat himself down on the couch beside him; though he didn’t sit close to him. “It’s getting late, Francesco. I’m afraid I might pass out soon..” He swallowed after he spoke and looked over at him, forcing a soft smile through the uneasiness. It was his home though and he wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way, the male beside him seemed friendly enough, but there just felt like there was something off.
It was easy to read, the unease in the human creature as he spoke, as he moved, as he came over and expressed the lateness of the hour. He was no fool—he knew what had provoked those words, and a sick part of his mind found amusement in it. The inhuman side of his being danced in glee, eager to see what would become of this, what would happen. While rationality, and morals… the cursed side of him which still kept a piece of his humanity near, it told him to tread carefully. Insanity… sanity. Whichever it was that reigned in his mind that moment, his gaze lingered on the distance between them even when Taemin had sat down beside him. “Don’t you worry”, he spoke softly, finding those eyes similar to his own, and a quiet smile graced his lips. “This won’t take long”, he added, hushed, as his palm rested against the couch, and he leaned forth; slowly, so as not to startle the other. “You see, what I want in exchange… it is blood”, he explained in velvet words, keeping his eyes unwavering upon him. “Your blood”, he clarified. “Not a lot—think of it as, mmh… donating blood. Do you see?”
