The soft glow of the bedside lamp was the only light illuminating Rody's room, casting warm shadows across the floor and walls. Rody lay half-clothed, his head resting on Vincent's thigh, fingers tracing aimless patterns along his boyfriend's smooth, pale skin. This had become his favorite spot over the months they'd been together, a place of strange intimacy where Vincent's veins pulsed under his lips, a reminder of warmth and life. But it was more than that—he couldn't deny that some part of him was thrilled by Vincent's thighs, by the idea of leaving his mark, even if just in small bites and kisses.
Vincent’s fingers absentmindedly threaded through Rody's disheveled auburn hair, an almost soothing motion that often had Rody drifting into a lazy daze. But tonight, something simmered in him, an insatiable itch he couldn't quite ignore. He nuzzled Vincent's leg, his lips brushing over the faint freckles scattered across his thigh before leaving a gentle, teasing nip.
"Always with the teeth," Vincent murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice was soft, uncharacteristically relaxed, something that only happened in moments like these—moments when the rest of the world melted away, leaving just the two of them.
Rody grinned up at him, barely a flicker of apology in his eyes. "Can’t help it," he whispered. "Something about you...you just taste so good."
Vincent chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "You're ridiculous," he said, though his tone was anything but displeased. Rody felt the warmth of Vincent’s hand press lightly against the back of his head, almost encouraging. "But do as you like."
That was all Rody needed to hear. His mouth closed around Vincent’s skin again, his teeth grazing a little harder this time, just enough to leave a faint mark that would fade by morning. Each press of his lips, each little scrape of his teeth, seemed to kindle something deeper within him. The feeling was primal and unnervingly intense. He wanted more—not just to taste Vincent, but to somehow claim him, in a way he could hardly understand.
In one breathless moment, his mouth moved lower, fingers gripping Vincent’s thigh a little tighter. He bit down, firmer than usual, and suddenly there was a faint coppery taste on his tongue.
Rody froze.
Vincent shifted, letting out a soft hiss of surprise. "Hey," he said, his tone not exactly harsh but tinged with mild surprise. "Careful, yeah?"
Rody swallowed, his throat dry, as he pulled back to inspect the faint indent his teeth had left, a tiny bead of blood forming where his bite had broken the skin. His heart raced, a strange thrill mixing with the heat that flushed through him. The taste of Vincent's blood lingered, sharper than he expected, filling his senses with something primal and overwhelming.
For a long moment, he could only stare, transfixed by that small, red dot. He felt his mouth water, an urge to lean down and taste more, to sink his teeth in deeper and—
He shook his head sharply, trying to dispel the thought. *What the hell is wrong with me?*
"Sorry, babe," he muttered, forcing a smile to cover his unease. "Got carried away."
Vincent just chuckled softly, clearly unconcerned, reaching out to brush a thumb over Rody's cheek. "You’re something else," he said fondly. “Just try not to take chunks out of me, alright?”
Rody laughed, though it felt hollow. "Got it. No chunks," he joked, his voice light but his mind still whirling with the strange, intoxicating sensation of Vincent's blood on his tongue.
They settled back into their familiar comfort, Vincent’s hand lazily stroking Rody’s hair again, but Rody found it hard to relax. He kept replaying that brief moment in his mind, each detail sharper than it should have been: the way his teeth had broken Vincent’s skin, the metallic taste that had lingered. And beneath it all, that sudden, unbidden urge to keep going.
