Logan was thinking of Jibril, of all things to think about. His angel. He loved him in a different sort of way than he loved Criss. He loved and respected Criss... and he loved and respected Jbril in a different way. It was odd and he couldn't figure out the feeling. So here he was in a broken down part of town looking for somebody to take it out on.

He'd let his hair lose all of its color so it looked like Criss'. Black and done into a few braids. Otherwise it was all loose, free to fall wherever it wished. His blue eyes still held that icy look, however. He was dreadfully confused.

He watched as a car went by every so often. Less often than the time cars went by in the city. He frowned, kicking somebody's empty beer can along the sidewalk. More people needed to die. He had to kill them off one by one.

His clothes were his usual wear. Black, baggy, dingy. Jean-material for pants and long-sleeved cotton shirt. It was midnight and he was out for a stroll, looking for a... midnight snack, you could say.

Kilean was dressed quite the opposite of Logan’s casual, or less then so, attire. Kilean looked as though he’d literally leaped out of a history book sometime on the timeline around the late 16oo’s and the early 17oo’s. Which, one may never guess, the clothing he wore truly was authenticly from that time era. He was dressed in tight slacks, nearly fitted to his very skin, in the color of a soft gray. His shirt was tucked in and tight around his very thin stomach and chest. The collar was high, the sleeves pouring in three layers of ruffled silk out of the end of jacket sleeves to rest against his hands. The jacket he wore slightly resembled a trench in that it was ground length and in the same color of his pants. Though it buttoned over his chest, it opened wide at the waist down. From the jacket pocket protruded the top of a yellow crayon box. His boots rode to mid calf on the outside of the pant leg, black against the gray pant, soft leather. His auburn hair was pulled to a short ponytail, strands falling in his pale face. Pale, nearly as pale as his white shirt. He’d not fed tonight.

His eyes fell on the lone boy, and he stood still and silent, directly across the road. His feet together, his hands at his sides, his brown eyes intent and his thin, pale lips pressed together. He looked like a statue. Then he started humming just a little. The tune to twinkle twinkle little star. His body swayed just slightly. His gaze was heavy, like carrying a sack of bricks.

Logan could still not begin to believe that boredom what was entertaining these thoughts about Jibril and it was making him angry. He continued his even pace down the sidewalk, his facial expressions betraying his emotions. He was smiling rather warmly by now, hands near squirming inside his pockets. Excited?

Something down the road. He seemed to be smiling at that. He squinted a little through the darkness, but shuffled up to the figure just standing there.

"Hey. What're you doing alone out here by yourself?"

Ah, the beauty of sweet and fake innocence.

He watched the boy near him slowly, watched the smile spread over his face. And An identical smile spread over Kilean's face. The boy was taller then himself, as many are these days, yet, Kilean's features placed him older then his height would tell. Kilean's face looked sixteen, his eyes looked older. And why not?

"Hey. What're you doing alone out here by yourself?"

"Standing," he replied. His voice was drawn with the hint of an English accent and was on a fine line between childhood and manhood, trapped forever as a tenor.

"What are you doing alone out her by yourself?" he returned. And then, lips closed, he humed again.

Twinkle twinkle...or maybe not. But that was the tune.

Yes, the beauty of sweet and fake innocence. I must agree.

Sarcasm. Oh, he liked him already. Kilean would make a very nice victim, perhaps even satisfy him in a way a human couldn't.

"Isn't that obvious? The world needs more sarcasm."

One hand came out of his pocket to rest inside his pants on his hip.

"Looking. An entertainer looking for fun."

Logan listened intently to the tune.

A smart ass. Kilean liked Logan as much as Logan already liked Kilean. Logan would make a very good victum. Play thing. Kilean certinly could satisfy in a way no human can. In many ways. The question is would Logan really wanted satisfied in that way? Would Logan want to play by Kilean's rules?

"Indeed it is obvious," he replied.

When Logan's hand came out of his pocket, Kilean put his hand into his own jacket poket. Aside from moving his lips and moving his hand just now, he'd not moved an inch. Not a blink of the eye or a twitch of a finger. He looked....well.....dead.

"Then you've come to the wrong place for your fun." He said, "you see, I am an entertainer and I too am looking for fun."

He humed again, then stopped once more. "But I think you could be great fun." He moved now, slowly spinning in a circle, then so fast the eye could not catch. He was behind Logan, huming once more.

"Tell me... entertainer, what are you?" He did not so much as blink when Kilean came behind him and continued to hum. He only turned slightly as to face him. "And what is that tune?"

He cocked his head to the side, inching a bit closer to Kilean.

"And is that so? Then let's play, hm?"

"Have you ever heard of the undead? The kind that walk by night but not by light? Who feed on blood to feed their Life?" See, that's what Kilean is. A blood sucker. Or vampire to put it delicatly.

He opened his lips and sang softly to the tun of twinkle twinkle when the other stepped closer to him and asked what the tune was.

"Little monster come to me.
I’m your savior can’t you see?
I’ll grant you pure ecstasy.
But you must give your life to me."

He stoped, lay his head on Logan's shoulder, his lips turned inward against his hair. "You like?"

Then let's play, hm?

"It would be my pleasure."

"Vampire? Oh, my... what a delicious treat. Come to suck blood, have you?"

He smiled up at Kilean as he lay his head on his shoulder. A smile- no, smirk of the wicked and cruel. A smirk of a twisted and insane boy, truly sick in the head.

"Pretty. You make that up yourself?"

He was quick to pull out a knife, laying out the flat side of the blade on Kilean's cheek.

"Tell me, small terror, do you bleed?"

"Yes," he answered. "As a mater of fact I have. And yes. I made it. I'm rather....fond of these modern nursery rhymes, though the original words are rather tacky." Modern rhyms? Twinkle twinkle is at least forty years old or more. But to Kilean they are modern. Lets remember, Kilean's been in a box for nearly a centry now.

"Tell me, small terror, do you bleed?"

"Small terror?" He closed his eyes and smiled against Logan's neck. "I like that." After a long pause with the knife against his cheek and sighed against Logan's throat, one icey cold hand had come up and pulled the hair to expose the skin. "I only bleed if I've had blood. And I've yet to feed tonight."

"Modern? Surely you jest, my friend. That rhyme is several years older than myself." Modern compared to Kilean's time, but certainly not modern to Logan. "Or is that simply the most modern rhyme up to date? I never did quite care to keep track..." Logan's not stupid. He knows this creature's much, much older than he looks, but he reduces everyone to mundane restrictions and such.

"Oh, a pity. But you can still feel pain, hm?"

He flipped the knife over and traced a little line into Kilean's cheek.

He frowned just slightly, but then it was gone and he pressed his lips against Logan's neck.

"Maybe it's not as modern as I'd thought?" A fang grazed Logan's neck but nothing more. His sire had tried many times to teach him not to play with his food.

Kilean rolled against the knife blade in the way that a cat does to a persons hand. He cut a thin line into his own cheek.

"I can indeed," feel pain that is.

"Perhaps not. But then again, this isn't your time, so you wouldn't know, I'm assuming." He smirked as a fang grazed his neck, purred a little.

"And you like it..." he mused, looking down at Kilean.

"I like that." He sliced deeper into his cheek. No blood.

"No." he answered. "It isn't my time." His time was three hundred and more years past. But he had slept for much of that, starved and suffered in a coffine for much of that. Logan purred and Kilean smiled.

Hasn't Logan wondered how this five foot two inch boy is standing behind him with his head on his shoulder, his mouth at his neck? Kilean can not fly but he has the ability to levitate. His hands went up to rest on Logan's hips, his touch cold through the clothes.

"And do you know what else I like?" He asked when Logan commented. Kilean sighed when he was cut deeper.

"People generally say that when they're about to die. Were you turned or born dead?" An elegant eyebrow was raised slightly, piercing blue-eyed stare resting heavily on Kilean's face.

no. No he had not wondered that. He scarcely even cared about that.

"What? I'm sure I could list a lot of things you might enjoy. Would you be so kind as to tell me?"

"You can't be born dead. We can't reproduce," he replied, his tone indicating that Logan was absolutly stupid for not knowing that. "Besides, we do not age. Had I been born this, I expect I'd have been an infant for life. How dreadful."

He took his face away from the blade, no blood spilled from the wound and it slowly began to knit togather, like watching playdough get squished back into one peice. And no scar was left.

"I like it when others hurt." And with this he scraped sharp, thin nails over the other's hip, lifting the hem of the shirt and scratching flesh.

"You take me for an idiot, I see. I should be offended." He gave a dark chuckle. How uncharacteristic. "How conceited you really are, creature of the night." Why was he conceited? Logan didn't say.

"Interesting. No scars, no blood, no...anything. It's almost... boring? No, not it..."

He let out a small sharp gasp, but that was only because he hadn't expected it.

"Oh, you're an ass." That was said in a playful tone. He was smirking now, pushing his hand against the other's chest.

He didn't reply to being called conceited, because really? He was. He always had been, even as a human in the seventeenth centry he'd been a conceited little fuck. So it would be lieing to say he was not. And you'd be suprised how seldom this little hell child lies.

No scars, no blood, no...anything

"There will be," And when Logan gasped, he only dug his fingernails deeper, making a soft moaning sound in the boys ear. "Once I get blood." And at this, he once again grazed a fang over the other's neck.

"I've been told that before," and he kept his nails dug in, clinging against the other while Logan pushed at him. He kept himself pressed tightly to the other's backside.

"What? You plan to feed from me, do you?" Logan asked, stepping back into Kilean and letting his head rest on his chest, pushing away slightly, but not because he wanted to get away.

"It hurts, you know." He announced plainly as he glanced down at the nails digging into his skin. "But not enough."

I've been told that before

"I didn't doubt that for a second."

Kilean didn't acknowlege any of what Logan had just said. He'd heard him, he'd just not answered any of it directly.

It hurst, you know. But not enough.

Kilean used Logan's hips to turn him and shove him against the wall, flatening his body to Logan's back and pressing him againt the brick, allowing them to slid a little. His fingers dug deeper, moved downward to tear skin down his hip bone at the waist of his pants.

As for What? You plan to feed from me, do you?...

Kilean moved back to turn Logan around, useing one hand to pull braids and loose hair away from Logan's neck and to pull his head backwards, exposing throat. His lip drew back slightly, flashing the sharp fangs and he drew back to strike.

"Better," Logan breathed after being knocked into the wall. He squirmed in delight from the pain as Kilean continued to dig and drag the nails into his flesh. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Is that all you got?" He felt he was just being toyed with.

That's all he is doing, Logan. Toying with you. Because no matter how old he is, he was killed young, and the young like to play. If he weren't playing, you'd be dead by now...that is, if you didn't think to fight back.

He still didn't reply, but he pressed sharp fangs through skin, and then some. He didn't stop forcing his way against Logan's skin once he'd penitrated it with fang but continued to press down, pressing his regular teeth again him too, biting, lower and upper teeth, until each tooth mark left a bloody hole. He drew back then and began to feed from Logan, his fingers tightening their hold, running deep scratches upward inside Logan's shirt, until they came to hold his shoulders, his fingers digging in.

He continued to feed, closing his eyes, which had bled the entire white away with color now. And he continued to feed as his heart started beating, and he would feed until Logan's heart stopped.

Logan, you might have to stop him.

Did I mention his first feeding of the night is always ended up a kill?

As odd as it seems, Logan actually relaxed into the pain and shut his eyes as Kilean's fangs penetrated his skin. He shivered and gasped at the thrill of life being stolen from him, Kilean's fingers running upward and dragging his nails along with them. He even gave another sharp gasp as his fingers came around his shoulders and the vampire tightened his hold.

After a few moments passed thopugh, Logan pushed his hand back against Kilean's chest now.

"Stop now, vampire. That's enough." His voice was slightly chilly with authority.

Kilean held tight. He'd been holding loosely, his nails digging, but when Logan began to push him off, Kilean's grip tightened, painfully. His fingers pressed into flesh that his nails had broken through and he made a soft sound. No. I'm not finished yet. He pulled his hand off of Logan's shoulder to bring it out of the shirt and smack the hand against his chest away. Then he pressed their bodies against the wall and held Logan's wrist, keeping it away from his body.

Before, he had no blood pressure, now Logan's likely to feel that the vampire is enjoying himself.

"That's enough, vampire." He repeated in a hiss as Kilean tightened his grip. "Now." He brought a hand up that was not physically part of his body, pushing with two times the amount of force Logan's real hand had previously applied.

"Let go of me."

Kilean let go that time. He broke free and, wow, he hasn't spilt a drop of blood anywhere, not one single drop, save for the one now running from the wound down Logan's neck.

The vampire looked down at his chest, reached for a hand that he felt but didn't see, touched it and then smiled. There is no blood on his teeth, every drop savored, gone. He hadn't expected this. It would be a nice twist.

He reached forward and with one thumb, wiped up Logan's neck at the blood, then pressed over the wound. He brought his hand away, stared at it, and then pressed it to his lips. He kept his short body against Logan's as he lowered himself until his boots were on the ground. It brought him only to Logan's chin.

Logan looked up at Kilean, seeming not to be satisfied that he stopped as of now. The hand continued to push as Kilean pressed himself closer to Logan's body, touched his wound and wiped away blood, smearing it onto his pale skin rather than wiping it away.

"Hungry, huh?"

He would've backed up but he was up against a wall, you know.

"Hungry yes. I feed from adults, to death. Your smaller, but your blood is sweeter." A very dark smile spread over Kilean's face then. "I could clean your wound for you."

He slipped his hand against his body against the 'hand' that was pressed to him and stepped back away from Logan's body just a little, then so that there was half a foot between them and he kept his hand against the 'hand'. "Telekenetic? It's been more then two hundred and fifty years since I've met one."

"I don't trust you to. I'll do it myself." He pulled his shirt up some more to cover the wound.

"Of course telekinetic. What else? Seems to be a lot these days." He shrugged and smirked, making a vague hand gesture to conjure up jaws to sink into Kilean's hand.

"Is it?" He smiled and it looked feril and darker somehow. Then the jaws locked over his hand and he tried to curl his hand into a fist around them. "When I last was awake, they were still burning your kind at the cross and trying to kill my kind with steaks in our hearts or chaining us and leaving us for sunlight."

He laughed softly, mockingly. Note the word 'trying'. For every vampire its different, but for many, steaks don't really work. (Will knows why if you want to know. I forgot why it isn't suposed to work)

"Oh, really? That's too bad I missed it. Sounds like my kind of era." A sly sort of smile crossed the young man's pale lips. "I take it their efforts were wasted... for the most part? I see you're still alive."

Jaws tightened and loosened and tigtened and loosened just to exercise themselves.

His eyes lowered to his hand upon the tightening and loosening effect. It caused his hand to feel as if it were throbing. He smiled slgithly, one fang showed under the lip. He's young, he doesn't know how to hide them well yet.

"They're attempts were worthless. A stake in the heart does nothing. And I know few vampires that can not break a mere chain to get away from the sunlight." He balled his hand again.

"I figured as much. From what I've heard you creatures are nasty things to get rid of..." He smirked, the right corner of his lip twitching as if to go up further still.

The jaws clenched tighter. He was only playing. It was so obvious.

"I imagine you make good playthings, though." He took one step forward.

"I imagine we do," he replied, keeping his hand balled when the jaws tightened. "We're much harder to break then mere mortals." His smile grew dark and nasty when Logan took a step forward. This should be fun. He defiantly took a step back, as far as the Jaw holding him would allow.

"The question is, are you any good at playing my games?" His eyes strayed to Logan's throat again. Should I mention they're still bleed entirly of any white and no pupil can be seen, but he is seeing perfectly fine. Oh what blood does to a vampire.

“I see you think highly of yourself. That’s one thing I don’t like about you…” He took another step forward, the jaws tugging Kilean’s hand towards him. “Though I perhaps have already noted it, it’s quite possible your ego is bigger than mine. And no, I can’t have that.”

“I, however, am excellent at games, but just what type of games are you talking about?” He questioned.

"Hmm." Don't like? Eyebrow. "You'll find many things about me that you don't like...if you live long enough."

Kilean scarcly resisted the jaw tugging him closer to the taller boy, he did, however, lean back against it, letting his hand take the weight of his body between the jaws, pain across the top of his hand, the tip of his fingers.

what type of games are you talking about?

Here he leaned forward towards the other. "The kind that makes me hurt. The kind that gives me a run for my money, where I bleed you. The kind where you fight, you struggle, and then you die."

ner... <_<

"You say this as if you're confident you'll win." He smirked, shook his head a little. This kid was a cocky bastard.

The jaws expanded and then just let go, detaching themselves like a snake's jaw would do. They were now closed upon Kilean's arms and sides, pinning his upper half there. The teeth stuck into the vampire's ribs.

"Death is not a price I'm willing to pay, but I certainly will gamble it."

He had no intention of killing Logan. When he finds something or someone he enjoys, he'd like to be able to revisit it. And this he likes. But the taunting earned him a jaw into his side, biting at his ribs and side. He leaned his head back, exposing his entire throat and made a soft moaning, content sound, his eyes closed.

"You gamble a lot, kid. You shouldn't be so confident." Just like he shouldn't be, but he is. And he always will be.

"Oh? I shouldn't?" His tone took an interesting change. It was softer and smoother. Sultry. "I've seemed to win every gamble I've made. There's no reason not to be confident. Especially with a brat like you." He was only taunting him.

He took several more daunting steps forward, running a fingernail down Kilean's jawline and trailed it down his exposed throat.

"Having fun?"