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Dinner and a Pet (LustfulSins&Mutt)

Even over the spray of the shower, Sinclair can hear Duncan's heartbeat in the bedroom. He had been so hoping the werewolf would just go downstairs to eat. Sinclair knows the man will have questions after seeing all of the vampire's treasured videos. It's not a conversation Sinclair wants to have.

After nearly twenty minutes, Sinclair resigns himself to the fact that Duncan isn't leaving the bedroom. He shuts off the water, wringing out his long hair. He takes his time, even lingering in the bathroom just a bit longer. With a sigh, he finally exits, naked, expression blank. "You should go downstairs and eat, Duncan." Sinclair only glances at the werewolf as he moves to the dresser to hunt for a pair of pants.
 
For what seemed like nearly an hour the vampire finally emerged from the bathroom. Duncan had put two and two together that he was supposed to disappear into the kitchen given the length of the shower but he did not feel like putting off a conversation until later. This had to be done sooner than later. For his own sake.

Duncan went to open his mouth but quickly shut it as the vampire came out naked. His face lit up red and he quickly turned away sputtering out a bunch of incoherent noises. Clearing his throat and staring off somewhere to his right he finally was able to find his voice after a few moments. "I think I understand your intentions. You save those off the streets I assume?" He paused for a moment. "I know I look a little worse for ware but I don't need rescuing or any help. What I need is to go back to my small pack and forget this ever happened. My brother and sister would sooner rip your throat out than comply to a collar and a....dog life."
 
Sinclair stops moving, staring into the open second drawer of the dresser, one hand on the edge. He seems to be gathering his thoughts as he listens to Duncan's words. After a moment of silence, the vampire selects a pair of thin grey cotton pants. He sighs as he pulls them on, refusing to look at Duncan.

"Yes, I suppose you could say I 'save' werewolves. I give them a better life. Though, my other intentions are no lie either. To have a partner that doesn't break beneath me, one whose life won't either away in a matter of weeks if I feed on them. Yes, my previous partners-" Sinclair's voice cracks, and he pauses to clear his throat. "My previous partners started out as pets in the same situation as you. Offered a deal, better lives and living conditions for their families in exchange for them to stay with me. Over time, pets became partners. Their families received protection, housing away from the city, land on which to hunt, to live in freedom. Yes, they bore my mark, but they also lived free of the fear that their homes might be raided."

Sinclair stops and looks straight at Duncan. A tear trails down his cheek, followed by a second. "I am trying to make things better for other species." He purposely avoids saying lesser species, as most vampires would. "Not just for werewolves, but for all other species. Yes, I have a preference for werewolves as partners, but I have three small settlements of other species, one fae, one fox-kin, one lizardfolk. Each under a false contract of employment, because by vampire law, I cannot place my mark of protection on other species without some sort of contract to bind them to me. I am trying, but I am one man, Duncan."

Sinclair takes a breath, though his body doesn't need it, and wipes his face. "If I must improve things one werewolf at a time, I will. I do not have the power to overrule the High Coven. Now, please go downstairs and eat. I will be in the office." Sinclair turns, leaving the room. The tension in his back and shoulders is clear as he walks away.
 
Duncan lets out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He could sympathize with the vampire; he understood where he was coming and his intentions seemed pure but he couldn't help but stay focused on the other motives for saving and keeping werewolves or any other species for that matter. He didn't agree to be saved or rescued in exchange for his blood, he didn't like this transaction and he didn't think he'd ever be comfortable with such a situation. He didn't think he'd get it through the vampire's head that his efforts and time were better spent with someone else.

With a frustrated growl, he punched the wall before turning to leave the room. He felt like a child as he slammed the bedroom door short before stomping down the stairs to the table before dropping himself into a chair. He stared at the food, almost too angry to eat, before he began picking up random things from the plate and eating them without tasting them.
 
In the office, Sinclair pulls out a book with no title, as it's not a book but a sketchpad. Settling himself on the windowseat, he props the pad on his pulled up knees. He doesn't really think about what he's sketching, just letting the pencil drag across the page. Gradually, the backyard forms on the paper. When stressed, Sinclair has a tendency to sketch landscape.

It's an hour before he sets the pen and pad down, but he doesn't rise from the seat. Instead, he stares outside, mind blank. He does want to save others as much as vampire law allows, but he also doesn't want to be alone. However, he doesn't want another vampire for a partner. He wants to feel heat, a heartbeat. But most other species are delicate. It's why he likes werewolves so much. They heal fast, harder to break if he gets angry. And he works so hard not to get angry. But a pet he has to win over is the only way to have a werewolf partner. They would never come to him by choice.
 
Once his frustration started, it only started to grow. Duncan was never one to control or reign in his anger, preferring to shift if human and bolt or just bolt as a wolf. Sometimes his temper would get the better of him regardless and he'd start a fight, not caring the match was one-sided.

With a pained, frustrated roar, he knocked his plate half-filled with food off the table like a kitten who needed attention. He felt satisfaction at the noise of the shattering plate and the various thuds as the food hit the floor. He could distantly feel his shift coming, his muscles pulsing and small fur growing on his skin. He stood up from his chain, leaning over the table as he began to pant, his body straining under trying to shift forms and being locked under the wolfsbane.
 
Hearing the roar, followed by the crash, Sinclair frowns deeply. Standing, he leaves the den and heads down the stairs. He doesn't rush, at least, not until he sees what Duncan is doing. With an exasperated huff, Sinclair moves quickly to stand beside Duncan, gripping his shoulder. "Duncan, you need to stop. You're going to hurt yourself, and your wolf. Stop, and breathe deeply."

Sinclair needs to get Duncan to calm down before he injures himself with the strain of trying to shift when there's wolfsbane keeping his wolf at bay. He had seen another pet, not one of his own, attempt the same. They had ended up in a twisted half shifted form, but not in a good way. Broken bones, torn muscles, it had not been pretty. Sinclair doesn't want that for Duncan. He growls. "Duncan, look at me! Breathe."
 
Looking is what exactly Duncan did.

With an angry snarl, he twisted away from the vampire, flicking the hand off his shoulder with a huff. The rational human side of his brain was trying to calm itself down, to see reason on why shifting wasn't such a good idea right now and how he should stop before further damage could be inflicted on the body. The wolf, however, banged against the cage the wolfsbane created the pain, anger, sadness, and confusion, all seeing to fuel its attempts to break free. With a pained sound, he lashed out at the only thing he could, bringing his sharpened claws towards the vampire's chest.
 
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