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Dick paused outside the heavy oak door, listening for movement within their chambers. His enhanced hearing picked up Jason's measured breathing—not the rapid rhythm of sleep, but the controlled pattern of someone pretending to rest. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Even after weeks in captivity, his little brother maintained his stubborn streak, refusing to acknowledge Dick's presence until absolutely necessary. It was infuriating. It was charming. It was exactly why Dick had wanted Jason by his side for all eternity.
He pushed the door open without knocking. What was the point? This was his castle, his domain—Jason was his.
The room lay bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows dancing across stone walls that had witnessed centuries of secrets. Dick's eyes immediately found Jason on their bed—a massive four-poster draped with crimson silk that complemented the pale expanse of Jason's skin. He lay on his side, facing away from the door, wearing nothing but an open blue tunic that exposed the curve of his back and the strong lines of his shoulders.
"I know you're awake," Dick said, his voice soft yet carrying the unmistakable authority of a king. "It's feeding time."
Jason's shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't turn. Dick's tongue darted out to wet his lower lip as he watched the muscles shift beneath the thin fabric. His fingers twitched at his sides, already imagining the warmth of Jason's skin beneath them, the way he would initially resist the touch before inevitably leaning into it. The familiar dance they'd performed dozens of times since that first night; Jason pulling away, Dick pursuing, until the distance between them collapsed like a dying star.
"Still playing these games?" Dick moved across the room, his footsteps silent against the stone floor. "You know what happens when you don't feed properly."
The hunger would grow unbearable. The pain would set in. Eventually, the feral nature would take over, and Jason would become something even he would hate—a mindless creature driven only by bloodlust. Dick had seen it happen to others. He would never allow it to happen to Jason.
Dick sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to trace a finger along the curve of Jason's exposed hip. "You're being difficult again. Refusing to drink from humans. Making me come up here to feed you like a baby bird."
A muscle in Jason's jaw twitched, but he remained silent, eyes fixed on the far wall.
"It's almost endearing," Dick continued, "this moral stand you're taking. As if it changes anything." He leaned closer, inhaling Jason's scent—a complex mixture of leather, spice, and the unique signature that was distinctly Jason, now intertwined with notes of Dick's own blood. "As if it makes you less of what you are now."
What I made you, Dick thought, a wave of possessive pleasure washing over him.
He remembered the night clearly—how could he not? It was the culmination of weeks of planning, of careful manoeuvring to isolate Jason from the others. Bruce had already fallen. Tim had escaped with Damian. And Jason—beautiful, fierce Jason—had come hunting for Dick, determined to end the vampire king's reign.
Dick had waited in this very chamber, knowing Jason would find him. He'd watched from the shadows as Jason burst through the door, guns drawn, face twisted in a mixture of rage and anguish.
"Where is he?" Jason had demanded, voice raw with emotion. "Where's Bruce?"
Dick had stepped from the darkness, letting his eyes glow red in the dim light. "Gone," he'd answered simply. "But you're here now. That's what matters."
The fight had been glorious—Jason was always magnificent in battle. His movements fluid, precise, deadly. But Dick was stronger, faster, enhanced beyond human capabilities. He'd toyed with Jason, letting him believe he had a chance, savouring each moment of their dance.
When he finally pinned Jason to the floor, straddling his chest with both wrists captured in one hand, Dick had seen the moment Jason accepted his defeat. His green eyes had blazed with defiance even as his body went still beneath Dick's weight.
"Do it," Jason had spat. "Kill me. I'd rather die than see what you've become."
Dick had laughed then, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. "Death is so permanent, little wing. And I have something much better planned for us."
The betrayal in Jason's eyes when Dick's fangs pierced his neck—that was the only moment of regret Dick had felt. Not for the act itself, but for the pain it caused. Jason had fought even then, body bucking beneath Dick's as his blood flowed hot and sweet into Dick's mouth. He'd fought until his strength ebbed, until his eyes grew dim, until his heart beat its last human rhythm.
And then Dick had opened his own wrist and pressed it to Jason's lips, forcing the blood down his throat, holding him as the change took him—as he died and was reborn.
The betrayal remained in Jason's eyes even now, weeks later. It lingered like a ghost between them, visible in moments when Jason thought Dick wasn't looking. But it was fading, slowly giving way to resignation. Eventually, it would transform into acceptance, perhaps even affection. Dick had eternity to wait.
"You need to feed," Dick said now, shifting on the bed to get a better view of Jason's face. "And since you insist on this ridiculous diet of only my blood, I've come to accommodate you."
Jason finally turned his head, his green eyes meeting Dick's red ones. "How thoughtful of you," he muttered, the first words he'd spoken since Dick entered the room.
Dick's heart swelled at the sound, as pathetic as that might be. Even Jason's sarcasm was a gift—a sign that the fiery spirit Dick had always admired hadn't been extinguished by the transformation.
"I am nothing if not a generous king," Dick replied, trailing his fingers up Jason's side, feeling the slight tremor that ran through him at the touch. "And an even more generous brother."
The word 'brother' made Jason flinch, as it always did. Dick used it deliberately, savoring the complex emotions it evoked. They had never been brothers by blood, but the bond had been real, was still real, merely transformed into something deeper, darker, more consuming.
Dick settled himself more comfortably on the bed, gazing down at Jason with undisguised adoration. "We have forever now, you know. You'll get used to it. You might even come to enjoy it."
Jason's laugh was harsh, but his eyes betrayed his exhaustion, the hunger that was already building. "I doubt that very much."
"Time will tell," Dick said softly, reaching out to brush the white streak in Jason's hair. "And time is the one thing we have in abundance."
The thought filled Dick with an unsettling giddiness. Eternity with Jason. Endless nights to break down his resistance, to remake him, to explore every facet of their new existence together. The betrayal in Jason's eyes was a small price to pay for such a gift.
Dick moved slowly as he shifted on the bed, sliding behind Jason's prone form. He sensed the slight stiffening in Jason's shoulders—a prey animal recognizing the approach of a predator. The thought sent a shiver of pleasure down Dick's spine as he settled himself against the crimson sheets, propping his head on one hand while the other reached out to rest on the curve of Jason's hip where the open blue tunic had fallen away to reveal skin that seemed to glow in the candlelight.
"You're still so warm," Dick murmured, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. The transformation hadn't stolen that from Jason—his body retained heat in a way Dick's no longer did. "So alive, even now."
Jason remained silent, but Dick felt the subtle shift in his breathing, the almost imperceptible lean into the touch that Jason would never consciously admit to. Dick smiled. The body knew what it wanted, even when the mind rebelled.
"Turn over for me," Dick coaxed, his voice a silken caress. When Jason made no move to comply, Dick sighed and added, "Please, little wing? I need to see your face when I feed you."
He watched the internal battle play out across the tense line of Jason's back—pride warring with hunger, defiance with necessity. Finally, with a muffled curse, Jason shifted onto his back, eyes fixed on the canopy above rather than meeting Dick's gaze.
"There you go," Dick praised, as if speaking to a difficult child who had finally decided to behave. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Jason's jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath the skin. "Just get on with it."
Dick clicked his tongue, reaching out to smooth the furrow between Jason's brows. "So impatient. We have all night. All of eternity, actually." His fingers drifted lower, tracing the sharp angle of Jason's cheekbone, the stubborn curve of his jaw. "And you know I like to take my time with you."
The touch was deliberately tender, a stark contrast to the power Dick knew he wielded. He watched Jason swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat where the blue veins were visible beneath pale skin. Dick's gaze lingered there, his own hunger stirring at the memory of how that skin had tasted when he'd first claimed Jason.
"You're being so good for me tonight," Dick continued, his hand trailing down Jason's neck to his chest, fingers splaying over the place where his heart beat—slower now, since the change, but still strong. Still Jason's. "Such a good little brother."
A flash of shame darkened Jason's eyes, and he turned his face away. Dick caught his chin, gently but firmly turning it back.
"Don't," Dick admonished softly. "Don't hide from me. Look at me, little wing. Every part of you belongs to me now, your eyes when they won't meet mine, your thirst when you try to deny it, even that beautiful shame colouring your cheeks. I'll have all of it."
"You're sick," Jason whispered, but there was less venom in the words than there had been weeks ago.
"Probably," Dick agreed, unconcerned. He continued his exploration, hand sliding beneath the open tunic to trace the ridges of Jason's abdomen, the dips and valleys that spoke of years of training, of battles fought and survived. "But you'll get used to it in time. We all do."
Jason's laugh was bitter. "Is that what happened to you? You just... got used to being a monster?"
The question might have stung once, when some vestige of humanity still clung to him like morning dew before sunrise. Now Dick merely smiled, his crimson eyes gleaming in the candlelight, fangs just visible beneath his upper lip as he considered the accusation. "I embraced it," he corrected, running his tongue slowly across his teeth, savoring the word like the memory of his first kill. "There's a difference. Acceptance is passive. Embrace is... passionate."
His hand continued its leisurely journey across Jason's body. When his fingertips grazed just below the ribs, Jason's back lifted a fraction of an inch from the mattress. Dick's pupils dilated. His fingers dipped lower, past the flat plane of stomach, and Jason's breath caught—a sound so quiet it might have been missed by human ears. Dick's lips parted, the tip of his tongue pressing against one sharp fang as heat spread through his chest and down his spine.
"I still don't understand why you won't feed properly," Dick said after a moment, genuine frustration colouring his tone. "From humans, I mean. It's what we're made for, Jason. It's what gives us strength."
Jason's eyes flickered to his face then, defiant despite his vulnerable position. "You know why."
Dick sighed dramatically. "Your moral objections are charming but impractical. The humans I keep for feeding aren't harmed. They're well treated, compensated, and their memories adjusted. It's practically consensual."
Mostly. Dick was only doing so for Jason’s sake… for now.
"Practically isn't actually," Jason muttered.
"And yet you'll drink from me," Dick pointed out, his thumb brushing over Jason's lower lip in a gesture that was both threatening and intimate. "Knowing I've fed on them, you'll take my blood instead. As if that creates distance from the act."
Jason didn't respond, but the flash of discomfort in his eyes told Dick he'd struck a nerve. Good. Jason needed to recognize the hypocrisy of his stance, to accept what he was now.
And yet, beneath his frustration, Dick felt a curl of possessive pleasure. There was something deeply satisfying about being Jason's only source of sustenance, about knowing that only his blood flowed through Jason's veins. It created a connection between them that was primal, unbreakable. A bond forged in blood that was more profound than anything they'd shared in their human lives.
"I suppose there are benefits," Dick mused, sliding his body closer until they were pressed together from chest to thigh. He traced the shell of Jason's ear with his nose, inhaling the scent that was becoming more like his own with each feeding. "I rather like knowing it's only been me. That no one else's blood has passed your lips since you were turned."
He felt Jason's shiver, saw the dilation of his pupils—hunger or arousal or some combination of both. Dick smiled against the sensitive skin below Jason's ear.
"My blood in your body," he whispered. "My mark on your very cells. Mine in a way you never were before."
Jason's fingers twisted in the sheets, knuckles whitening, yet his body remained pressed against Dick's, neither yielding nor retreating. The corner of Dick's mouth curved upward as he noted the slight relaxation in Jason's jaw, the infinitesimal softening around his eyes that hadn't been there last week, or the week before.
"It's intimate, isn't it?" Dick continued, his hand sliding up to rest at Jason's throat, feeling the pulse beneath his palm. "More intimate than sex. When you drink from me, you're taking part of me into yourself." His voice dropped lower, taking on a hypnotic quality he knew affected Jason. "Becoming me, in a sense. As I became those I fed from. An unbroken chain stretching back to the first of our kind."
He watched Jason's throat work as he swallowed, saw the hunger sharpening in his gaze despite his best efforts to hide it. The shame was still there too, but Dick found it beautiful rather than concerning. Shame meant Jason still felt, still cared. It meant there was still something human in him to mould, to shape, to eventually bring around to Dick's way of thinking.
"You can deny it all you want," Dick said, his lips brushing against Jason's jaw. "But part of you craves this. Not just the blood, but the connection. The surrender." He raised himself up on one elbow to better observe Jason's face. "And I'm a patient man, little wing. I can wait for you to admit it."
The tremor that passed through Jason's body wasn't entirely from resistance, and they both knew it. Dick smiled, victorious even in the face of Jason's continued silence. The body couldn't lie, not to him. Not anymore.
Dick recognized the look in Jason's eyes—that particular blend of resignation and defiance that preceded their well-worn conversation. It was almost comforting in its familiarity, like a script they'd both memorized but continued to perform, hoping perhaps for a different ending. Dick shifted his weight, giving Jason enough space to speak the first line of their routine, a small courtesy that maintained the illusion that this was a dialogue rather than simply Dick's will being enforced.
"I still don't understand," Jason said, right on cue, his voice rough with thirst and frustration. "Why me? Why insist on keeping me here when I clearly don't want this?"
Dick suppressed a smile. They'd had this conversation at least a dozen times since Jason's turning, yet he never tired of it. There was something endearing about Jason's stubborn persistence, his refusal to simply accept his new reality without questioning. It was so quintessentially Jason.
"You know why," Dick replied, tracing idle patterns on Jason's chest through the thin fabric of his tunic. "I want you by my side. I always have."
"You have an entire castle full of vampire minions," Jason countered, though his eyes followed the movement of Dick's hand with wary attention. "You turned half of Gotham's elite. Why not just let me go? Or kill me properly if you're so determined I shouldn't be human?"
Dick sighed, settling himself more comfortably against Jason's side. "Those others are subjects, not companions. They serve a purpose, but they're not family." He met Jason's gaze directly. "Not like you."
"We're not family," Jason said, the words sharp but lacking their former heat. "Not anymore. Not after what you did to Bruce."
A flicker of something—not quite regret, but perhaps nostalgia—passed through Dick at the mention of their former mentor. "Bruce made his choice," he said softly. "As did I. As we all must."
"Some of us didn't get a choice," Jason reminded him, gesturing to his own body, to the room that had become his prison.
Dick's fingers stilled their movement. "No," he agreed. "You didn't and I won't apologize for that."
The honesty seemed to catch Jason off-guard. He blinked, studying Dick's face as if searching for the lie.
"I wanted you with me," Dick continued, his voice low and intense. "Forever. I couldn't bear the thought of watching you age, suffer, die—not when I had the power to prevent it. Not when I could keep you." His hand resumed its exploration, sliding up to cup Jason's face. "I won't pretend it was for your benefit. It was entirely selfish. And I'd do it again."
Something in Jason's expression shifted, a complicated emotion Dick couldn't quite name. Not acceptance—never that, not yet—but perhaps a grudging recognition of Dick's sincerity.
The truth was both simpler and more complex than Dick could articulate, even to himself. His feelings for Jason had always existed in a tangled space beyond traditional definitions—brother, friend, rival, object of desire. The vampire transformation had merely stripped away his human inhibitions, allowing those feelings to emerge in their most true, possessive form. He didn't just love Jason; he wanted to consume him, to own him in every possible way.
"How's Damian?" Jason asked suddenly, changing the subject in a way that might have seemed abrupt if Dick hadn't been expecting it.
This too was part of their script. Jason, ever the protector, concerned for the youngest member of their fractured family.
Dick's lips curled into a slow, predatory smile that didn't quite reach his eyes—eyes that had long since lost their human warmth, now gleaming like polished gemstones in the dim light of the chamber. He traced the pad of his thumb across Jason's lower lip, feeling the slight tremor there. "He's well," Dick purred, voice like velvet. "Still quite human—rosy-cheeked and warm-blooded. Still quite safe in his gilded cage, playing with his books and swords as if the world hasn't ended around him."
"You promised you wouldn't turn him," Jason said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
"And I've kept that promise," Dick replied, stroking a thumb over Jason's cheekbone. "Damian remains untouched, living comfortably in the east wing under Tim's watchful eye."
He didn't mention that Tim was no longer entirely human himself—that his eyes now held an unnatural amber glow in the shadows, or that his canines had lengthened just enough to occasionally catch on his lower lip when he spoke. Not fully vampire, but something in between—a half-turned creature who could still walk in diluted sunlight but required small amounts of blood mixed with his tea each morning. A careful concession Dick had made to keep him cooperative in guarding Damian, leaving Tim eternally suspended between two worlds, never fully belonging to either. Some details were better left unshared, at least for now.
"As long as you behave," Dick added, his gentle tone belying the threat in his words, "Damian will remain safe and human. That was our agreement."
Jason closed his eyes briefly, and Dick could almost see him weighing his options, calculating risks and rewards as he always did. When he opened them again, the fire of defiance had dimmed, replaced by the dull glow of resignation.
"Okay," Jason said simply.
The victory—small as it was—sent a thrill of satisfaction through Dick. Not that he'd ever harm Damian regardless of Jason's behaviour, but Jason didn't need to know that. The belief that his compliance protected their youngest brother was a useful tool, one Dick had no intention of relinquishing.
"Good," Dick murmured, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Jason's lips—a reward for his cooperation. Jason didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either. Another small victory.
Dick pulled back just enough to meet Jason's eyes, their faces still close enough to share breath. "Will you be good and feed now? You need your strength."
Jason's brows drew together in a frown, his lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure. For a moment, Dick thought he might refuse—break their routine, force Dick to resort to less pleasant methods of persuasion. But then Jason gave a single, curt nod.
"Fine," he said, the word barely audible. "Let's get it over with."
Dick smiled, pressing another quick kiss to Jason's frowning mouth. "So impatient," he chided. "You should learn to savour these moments. I certainly do."
The look Jason gave him was venomous, but Dick found it charming rather than offensive. The spark of resistance was what made Jason so captivating—his willingness to fight even when surrounded, outmatched, and cornered. It was that fire that had first drawn Dick to him, that continued to fascinate him now.
"I think you'll find," Dick said, shifting to position himself better, "that feeding can be quite pleasant when you allow yourself to enjoy it." He brushed a strand of hair from Jason's forehead, letting his fingertips linger. "All you have to do is surrender."
Jason's laugh was short and bitter. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Dick tilted his head, studying the beautiful, stubborn man beneath him with the kind of patient hunger that had grown familiar over these long nights of resistance and reluctant surrender, his eyes tracing every defiant line of Jason's face as if committing it to memory for the thousandth time. "Fear is part of the process," he said softly. "But so is pleasure. Let me show you."
Dick held Jason's gaze as he bit down on his own tongue—hard enough to break the skin, to feel the sharp sting and taste the metallic flood that followed. It was an intimate act, more personal than opening a vein at his wrist. Blood welled in his mouth, rich and dark with power accumulated over years of feeding. He watched Jason's pupils dilate at the scent, his nostrils flaring subtly, hunger overriding restraint despite his best efforts to appear indifferent.
"Open for me," Dick whispered, the words slightly slurred by the blood coating his tongue.
When Jason hesitated, lips pressed tightly together, Dick traced the seam of his mouth with a gentle finger. "Don't make this difficult, little wing. We both know you need it."
A flash of irritation crossed Jason's face, but the hunger won out. His lips parted reluctantly, just enough for Dick to lean down and cover Jason's mouth with his own.
The kiss was not gentle. Dick pressed forward insistently, using his tongue to pry Jason's mouth wider, delivering the first sweet taste of blood. He felt Jason's initial resistance—the tense jaw, the attempt to pull back—followed by the inevitable surrender as the flavour hit his system. Jason made a small, desperate sound in the back of his throat, and Dick swallowed it greedily.
Their bodies needed no oxygen; they could remain locked together indefinitely. Dick took full advantage, deepening the kiss, ensuring every drop of blood transferred from his mouth to Jason's. He felt Jason's tongue push against his, at first hesitantly, then with increasing urgency as the hunger took over.
Soon the wound in Dick's tongue began to heal—a vampire's rapid regeneration working against them. Without breaking the kiss, Dick guided Jason's head, tilting it at a better angle and then pressing forward until he felt the sharp edge of Jason's fangs against his tongue. Understanding immediately, Jason bit down gently, reopening the wound.
Fresh blood flowed, and Jason's hands finally moved from their rigid position at his sides to grip Dick's shoulders. His fingers dug in hard enough to bruise a human, hard enough that Dick could feel the delicious pressure of them through his shirt. He hummed his approval into Jason's mouth, encouraging the newfound participation.
Dick reopened the wound three more times, each time feeling Jason grow more eager, less restrained. It was beautiful to watch—the gradual surrender to instinct, to need. Jason's eyes had taken on that hazy quality Dick loved, the green of his irises nearly swallowed by the black of his dilated pupils. His body had relaxed beneath Dick's, tension melting away as the blood worked through his system.
There was an intimacy to this method of feeding that Dick preferred over all others. The sharing of blood directly from mouth to mouth, the sustained contact, the inability to hide reactions—it created a vulnerability that Jason couldn't escape. A connection that went beyond the physical.
As Jason continued to feed, Dick allowed one hand to drift downward, trailing across the heated skin of Jason's chest, his abdomen, feeling the slight tremors that ran through the powerful muscles there. Lower still, until his fingers brushed against the unmistakable hardness beneath the thin fabric covering Jason's lower half.
Jason's body jerked at the contact, a muffled sound escaping into their joined mouths. Dick smiled against Jason's lips, pleased by the reaction. The connection between feeding and arousal was one of the more pleasant surprises of vampire existence—the two hungers intertwined, heightening each other.
"Let me take care of you," Dick murmured against Jason's mouth, his hand now cupping the rigid length, feeling it pulse beneath his palm.
Jason made no verbal response—couldn't, with his mouth still latched onto Dick's—but the slight arch of his hips provided all the answer Dick needed. He began to stroke in a slow, steady rhythm, squeezing just firmly enough to make Jason's breath hitch, his feeding grow more aggressive.
The duality of sensations—Jason's mouth hot and desperate against his own, Jason's cock hard and insistent beneath his hand—sent waves of pleasure coursing through Dick's body. His own arousal built, but he ignored it. This moment was about Jason—about reinforcing the connection between them, about teaching Jason to associate feeding with pleasure rather than shame.
Dick increased the pace of his strokes, pushing the fabric aside to gain direct contact with heated skin. Jason groaned, the sound vibrating through their joined mouths, his fangs scraping against Dick's tongue in a way that was both painful and exquisite. The taste of blood between them grew richer as Dick's excitement increased the flow.
"That's it," Dick encouraged, breaking the kiss momentarily to speak, a thin strand of blood-tinged saliva connecting their lips. "Take what you need. Everything I have is yours."
Jason's eyes were unfocused now, lost in the twin pleasures of feeding and physical stimulation. His hips moved in rhythm with Dick's hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. Dick obliged, twisting his wrist in the way he'd learned drove Jason wild, thumb circling the sensitive head where moisture had gathered.
"So beautiful like this," Dick whispered, reconnecting their mouths, offering more blood even as his other hand continued its relentless pace. "So perfect for me."
He felt the moment Jason approached the edge—the sudden tension in his thighs, the erratic thrust of his hips, the desperate quality of his feeding. Dick didn't relent, maintaining the perfect pressure, the perfect speed to push Jason over.
When it happened, it was glorious. Jason tore his mouth away from Dick's with a harsh cry, head thrown back, body arching as pleasure overtook him. Dick watched in rapt fascination as Jason came apart beneath him, spilling hot and wet over his still-moving hand. The sight was intoxicating; Jason's face transformed by ecstasy, all defences momentarily shattered, completely vulnerable in his release.
Dick leaned down, pressing bloody kisses to Jason's face—his cheeks, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth. Jason was too lost in the aftermath to protest, his body limp and pliant, chest rising and falling with unnecessary but instinctive breaths.
Taking advantage of Jason's dazed state, Dick raised his hand to his mouth and slowly, deliberately began to lick it clean, savoring the taste of Jason's essence mixed with the lingering copper of his own blood. It was an indulgence he never tired of—this most intimate form of consumption.
Jason's eyes fluttered open just enough to catch the motion, and a fresh wave of colour stained his cheeks. Dick smiled, not pausing in his meticulous cleaning.
"Exquisite," he said simply, running his tongue between his fingers to catch every drop. "As always."
Jason turned his face away, embarrassment warring with the languid satisfaction of being well-fed and sexually sated. Dick allowed him the small privacy, focusing instead on the pleasant weight of his own arousal, something to be addressed later. For now, he was content to have taken care of Jason's needs.
"You know," Dick mused, settling beside Jason's boneless form, "for all your complaints about this method of feeding, you certainly seem to enjoy the process."
Jason managed a weak glare, though the effect was somewhat undermined by his dishevelled appearance and the flush still colouring his cheeks. "Fuck you," he muttered, but the words lacked their usual venom.
Dick laughed, pulling Jason closer against his chest. "Perhaps next time," he teased, pressing a kiss to Jason's temple.
He felt Jason's body gradually relaxing against his own as the double satisfaction of feeding and release worked its soporific effect. Dick allowed himself a moment of simple contentment, breathing in the scent of them mingled together.
It was true that feeding Jason this way required more effort than simply providing a wrist or directing him to one of the human ‘donors’. The reopening of wounds, the extended contact, the cleanup afterward—all of it took time that a more efficient king might consider wasteful.
But as Dick watched Jason's features soften in post-feeding calm, he couldn't bring himself to mind. The intimacy was worth the hassle and the chance to break through Jason's defences, to see him vulnerable and wanting, to be the source of both sustenance and pleasure—these were privileges Dick cherished.
"Rest," he whispered against Jason's hair, knowing that the feeding would make him drowsy. "I'll be here when you wake."
Where I'll always be, he added silently. For eternity.