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Joey had her teeth in your neck, your blood coating her tongue, dripping down her lips, and running down your neck. It wasn’t the first time, and you were, perhaps, overly eager to help your partner out with her vampire problem. It didn’t hurt as much as some stories would let you believe. Her teeth were sharp enough that if she was careful and did it right, it barely stung, and you had gotten used to it at this point. It was, as you might dare say, even enjoyable – a slightly painful kiss to the neck and a no-longer-hungry partner, not a bad trade at all in your mind. But she always took too little, said it tasted bad. By now you were inclined to believe her.
Joey had not been a vampire for very long, but for long enough to have bitten a fair share of different people, all of whom had had their own unique taste. They all had tasted different, ranging from stale, over acceptable, to decent, but your blood – yours was different. Your blood tasted like heaven to her. It was so easy to get lost in it, so fucking easy. She had been an addict for long enough to know exactly what this feeling was and how dangerous it was to let it go on. You tasted like the promise of something better, of forgetting, of not caring, of feeling complete. Below that promise lay the truth that if she took too much, she would do more harm than good, and at some point, it would not be up to her anymore how much she took. So, she stopped before it got to that point, like always, to your disappointment. You could still see the hunger in her eyes when she pulled back.
“Already enough?” you asked.
“Yeah,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and her eyes still trained onto your bleeding neck. Why did it look so good? It was a wound. You were bleeding. And yet, it was mesmerising to her, to watch your blood pool out, slowly running down your skin and soaking into your shirt. Inviting. She snapped her eyes to yours and took a step back. “It’s enough,” she said more firmly.
You hesitated. You always tried to believe her, but you also knew that lying came easy to her, and you hadn’t imagined the way she had been looking at your neck. Ogling it, more like it.
“But you barely took anything. Again.”
She scowled at you from the corners of her eyes. “So?”
“I’m fine. You can take more. I know you’re still hungry,” you protested.
Her response was curt. “I’m good.”
“I’m really fine if you want to take more,” you tried again.
“I don’t want more of your blood.”
“Why not?”
“Because it tastes like ass,” she snapped at you, glaring. It wasn’t the first time she had said something like that, just not quite as crassly.
“Oh. Okay.” That hurt a little, and it showed on your features. She scoffed at your wounded pride. You swallowed that wounded pride and shook your head. She had brushed you aside like this several times before, but you were not going to take it, not today. “No, I don’t believe that. You enjoyed it. You did. You can’t keep lying about that.”
Joey bit down on her tongue and stared you down while you waited for an answer, waiting for her to brush you off again. “It’s what blood does. We want it, even blood like yours. It doesn’t matter what it tastes like.”
“Doesn’t it?” Your voice sharpened as you got irritated. “You seemed a little more than into it to me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her posture stiffened, and her features hardened.
“The way you’ve been glancing at my neck the past thirty seconds says otherwise.”
“Why are you so hung up on this?”
“Because I know you’re lying, and it would be nice to hear something else other than that I’m barely edible and your last resort because I’m available!”
“Why does it even matter what your blood tastes like?”
“Because it does!”
She paused, eyeing you. “Okay, fine, your blood tastes good,” she said and threw up a hand in concession. She didn’t seem happy about the admission, her jaw set in an angry line and her fingers clenched into fists.
“Then why the fuck do you keep lying all the time?!” You hadn’t meant to yell that.
Your back hit the ground and her face hovered barely an inch above yours with her fangs bared at you before you even had a chance to realise that she had moved.
“Because I want you so bad I could kill you! You taste better than my favourite whisky, you numb my senses better than morphine, you make me feel like nothing else matters, and I can’t fucking get enough, so when you get up in my business and tell me it’s okay, I want nothing more than to fucking rip your head off and drink until there’s nothing left and I’ve consumed every last shred of you, so I will carry whatever it is that makes you so fucking alluring with me for forever! You don’t know how fucking hard it is to resist you when you do that shit! I don’t want to kill you! I don’t want to lose you! I want to keep you by my side!”
“Oh.” You felt dumb in both senses of the word. It was hard to get Joey to crack and raise her voice like this. You had seen it barely once in your time with her, and it didn’t compare to what she was saying now. She was a professional and chronically composed, and seeing her lose it was scarier than watching her calmly end someone’s life. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. So, you were being an ass to me ... because you want me? I’m a little flattered.” A smile spread across your features involuntarily.
She huffed but relaxed and sat back, straddling your waist and pushing her fingers through her hair. “Yes. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“A little too late.” She rolled her eyes at your response. “Okay, fine, I will stop flaunting my neck in front of you, but you have to admit, being craved this much is kind of flattering. You don’t crave others like this, do you?”
Joey worked her jaw. “No. I don’t.” You visibly preened beneath her, pleased with yourself. “You are actually impossible.”
“I know.” You dropped your cheeky smile to a softer one. “So, you were holding back the entire time because you didn’t want to hurt me.” Her features softened as well.
“You matter a great deal to me. I don’t want to hurt you just because I’m like this now.” Plus, you had known about her history with addiction. Perhaps you should have known better and put the pieces together sooner. It might have made it easier on her.
“I love you too.”
Her smile got warmer, and then she shifted, relaxing and looking more like her usual self. “I should take care of that,” she said and pointed at your neck, helping you to your feet.
“Doesn’t that make it harder?” you asked hesitantly. “I can do it myself, you know.”
“It’s fine, so long as you don’t tell me it’s okay to drink it.”
“Got it,” you nodded, and she sat you down and, as usual, started to gently clean the bite wound and tape gauze over it, your eyes lingering on hers as she worked. You really should have known better, you thought. She could be an ass, but never without reason. Under her veneer of being a lone wolf who needed no help and was always in control, she was a gentle soul, who perhaps needed to learn to let other people in and to also ask for help when she was struggling. But you knew now what had been troubling her about this strange dynamic of give and take that you two had found yourselves in since that night in the mansion when she had been turned, and now you could help her manage it better. You were nothing if not eager to help your partner with her struggles, perhaps a little bit stupid and reckless with your own life at the moment, but no one could fault you for that.
When she was finished bandaging your neck, still kneeling in front of you, you ran your fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” she murmured before she pulled you down to herself by the back of your neck and kissed you.