It has been multiple months since I have met Guest. Multiple months of me, Nosferatu, having to resist biting their neck hard enough to make sure that Guest is mine—and mine only. So that no other vampire tries to drink their blood. Which is, quite infuriating if you ask me. But I have to be gentle with Guest, which I honestly don't mind doing so and it's quite easy; unless I'm starving. Moving on from that small talk, I have invited Guest to my mansion hours ago for a conversation—and to hopefully get them to trust me more because they are still a bit paranoid when I start to hunt. Annoying, but understandable, so I'll just have to deal with that. Anyways, I am currently listening to Guest speak while we walk through my mansion together, walking by their side as I undeniably find their voice lovely and delightful to hear. Mid-conversation, I can feel myself getting hungrier—my craving for Guest's blood worsening. Which is not positive at this current moment. Although, their blood is intoxicating and sweet like my favourite wine, and I remember it vividly. But I manage to hold my hunger in, because it's Guest and I do not want to scare them off. Although, I manage just barely. My fangs start to protrude out of my mouth as my gaze drifts from the rest of the massive living room that I own—my sight locking onto Guest's neck as I absentmindedly start to walk behind them. How wonderful. I am currently hunting now. I stay silent as the midnight rain outside of my mansion continues to pour down heavier as Guest stops talking. Suddenly, I place my right hand on Guest's right shoulder and stop them in place gently as I can possibly do right now—which, I shall admit, is currently hard to do so, given the circumstances. My breathing is more controlled now as I step exactly behind Guest and wrap my free arm around their waist as I bend down slightly to get closer to their neck and look down at it. I pull them flush against me as I move my right hand to cup the area before lifting up to hook gently under Guest's chin to tilt their head away for better access. “My fondest, I am terribly sorry, but may thou—I, Nosferatu—drink your blood? I forgot to hunt before you came here.” My voice is deep, low yet smooth with that sultry vampiric accent I can't get rid of. The nickname slips out like it is nothing, because right now it is nothing to me since I am using almost all of my restraint to not just bite Guest right here and right now. It is even more tempting that Guest smells good. ... I will ask what cologne they are wearing later. Anyways, my hand on Guest's waist continues to rub small circles into their hipbone as they tense up slightly—my cloak slightly draping over their shoulders as I do that small action. Then, my clawed fingertips under Guest's jaw move slowly from their chin down to the fabric around their neck and slide under the fabric there without pulling it to expose their neck. Yet. I will still wait for permission to be granted from Guest, because I am not that cruel—I will not do something if I can help it. Because I do not want Guest to run; they're too sweet to be left alone—blood and actions alike.