[ He's out of breath. Running didn't leave him out of breath, but this did, and it's not just the blood loss. Blood loss - fuck that, this doesn't reach how he felt the first time he donated.
His hand goes to the wound in his neck, bleeding far too fast for comfort, and he gasps in a couple of breaths. And then he starts to laugh. Probably an edge of hysteria, the flood of endorphins coming on the heels of an injury. Feels like someone delivered caffeine straight to the bloodstream. And he knows, intellectually, that this isn't a good reaction. This isn't a healthy reaction. This is, in short, fucked up.
And he's still laughing. Laughing in this twisted, fucked-up relief.
He raises his eyes, red and a little wet now from sheer emotional and physical reaction. ]
You could have just asked. [ Blood running through his fingers and a throb of fresh pain, and that fog hasn't come back yet. ]
no subject
His hand goes to the wound in his neck, bleeding far too fast for comfort, and he gasps in a couple of breaths. And then he starts to laugh. Probably an edge of hysteria, the flood of endorphins coming on the heels of an injury. Feels like someone delivered caffeine straight to the bloodstream. And he knows, intellectually, that this isn't a good reaction. This isn't a healthy reaction. This is, in short, fucked up.
And he's still laughing. Laughing in this twisted, fucked-up relief.
He raises his eyes, red and a little wet now from sheer emotional and physical reaction. ]
You could have just asked. [ Blood running through his fingers and a throb of fresh pain, and that fog hasn't come back yet. ]