Charlie cants his head as Asher leans in, needing Asher’s touch as much as he assumes Asher needs his blood.
From All’s Night
The door to the backroom is cracked, allowing a sliver of fluorescent light to bleed into the darkness of the hall. Charlie stops chewing on his thumbnail when Asher enters the room and pushes the door closed. The small room is cramped, leaving little distance between them. Not that Asher gives Charlie any personal space. Charlie cants his head as Asher leans in, needing Asher’s touch as much as he assumes Asher needs his blood.
The way Asher smells, like the musk of an antique book, is intoxicating. His cool breath sweeps over Charlie’s pulse point as he exhales, and the chill that consumes Charlie’s body raises the hair on the nape of his neck. He tenses and grunts softly when the vampire’s fangs pierce his skin.
It always hurts the same. Not that he lets Asher do this every night, but often enough he expects he’ll get somewhat used to it eventually. Yet the way Asher is so careful about not truly damaging him and the way he sucks on his neck with such urgent desperation afterwards never fails to make Charlie weak in the knees.
But it’s not just the blood drinking. Asher holds Charlie close to his lukewarm body with a steadfast palm on the small of Charlie’s back, supporting Charlie’s delicate human form as he drains the life-force from him. He whispers encouraging words in Charlie’s ear intermittently, as if Charlie needs to be rewarded for letting Asher drink his blood. And with each and every visit of theirs to the storage room, Asher has opened up to Charlie just a tiny bit more. Until Charlie can hardly remember what his life was like before Asher when Asher’s pressed against his chest drinking from him.
“Mmm, my lord.” Asher pauses to lick Charlie’s neck clean. “You’re the most delectable morsel I’ve ever tasted.”
Charlie draws in a deep, shaky breath, both disappointed and relieved Asher is finished. “I aim to please,” he utters, half in jest.
Asher studies Charlie with a contented expression. He raises his hand and strokes Charlie’s jawline with the back of his fingers. His eyes are drawn to Charlie’s lips, and he licks his own, drawing his lower one between his teeth.
“I’ll see you on Thursday?” Asher’s voice is all gravel.
“Yeah, Thursday,” Charlie breathes. But in this bewitching moment, two days is too far away.
Asher pulls Charlie close once more, his lips tickling Charlie’s cheek as they brush past it. With that, Asher is gone, leaving Charlie spent and languorous.