There was no turning back.

Merritt had presented his arm out to his boss like a juicy tenderized steak after swearing to himself he’d never let another bloodsucker bite him again.  He tried to rationalize it.  As if a measly nibble on the arm made it any better compared to his neck. He hovered in front of Bloodworth’s desk, standing before him in his chair, willing his pounding heart not to burst from his chest.

Was it wrong that he actually wanted to feel his bite?  He imagined it to be far less painful.  Perhaps even pleasurable.

“Merritt.” The way his boss rasped his name should not have made him shiver in delight.  His boss’s penetrating vermillion eyes met his and Merritt found himself quite willing to swoon when Bloodworth pressed his lips so tenderly to his wrist.  “You can make me stop at any time.  I know you’re powerful enough to burst me open like a bloody pinata, but please try not to kill me if it comes to that.”

“I make no promises, sir.” How he managed to conjure up the bravery to bring his free hand underneath Bloodworth’s chin and tilt it up enough for him to trace his thumb along the lower seam of his lip, he’d never know.  He tried to convince himself it was simply to get an idea of how sharp those fangs peeking out really were.  

Expecting his boss to pull away, he was pleasantly surprised when Bloodworth leaned into his touch.  Merritt knew he was playing a dangerous game.  Heat furnished his body like a sauna in the summer, and he found himself enthralled to imagine what those fangs would feel like to penetrate his delicate skin.  His heart roared in his ears, so loud he wondered if Bloodworth could hear it as well.

Merritt was not certain what he expected when Bloodworth brought his arm so close to his lips again.  Everything around him faded and his body stilled, frozen in place, unsure of whether it was fear or arousal pooling deep within him. The way Bloodworth looked at him like he wished to devour him had him reeling against his desk, supported by a strong arm that steadied him.  

“Show me where,” Bloodworth rasped, the tips of his fangs dangerously close to the inside of his wrist.  “You want bitten,” he added like a forethought, much to Merritt’s relief because in his haze of desire, he wasn’t sure what he might’ve said.

“Here is fine.” Merritt gestured up his arm, just barely above the wrist, to a patch of skin he could conceal underneath his cloak once they finished.  

Had it been anyone else, Merritt would’ve hexed him for licking him.  It certainly should not have been so seductive, and he had half a mind to tell Bloodworth to close his eyes while he fed because he wasn’t sure he could handle the constant eye-contact. Instead, he closed his own eyes to block out the libidinous thoughts that would live rent free in his mind for the rest of the morning.  

 “I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Those words alone made Merritt ready to melt on the spot, unable to resist a shiver of desire that swept over his body when Bloodworth brought his mouth to his tender skin. 

He striked with the precision of a viper after its meal, and Merritt released an audible gasp at the sharp pinch that lanced his arm.  The pain faded, replaced by a soothing warmth, like syrup drizzled into his veins.  

It felt nothing like the time that vampire had attacked, tearing so ruthlessly into his neck without a care for his wellbeing.  Despite his hunger, he sensed the gentleness in Bloodworth’s bite and even the way he drank from him. Nothing like a vampire who intended to drain him dry, but one that wanted to make sure even he enjoyed it.

Merritt could only remember immense pain from that time before, enough that it had literally made him black out.  With Bloodworth, there was something relaxing about the exchange, like he was drifting on a cloud in the sky on a delightful spring evening, reminding him of days he’d spent flying through the forest on his broom.  

Bloodworth moaned against his skin, sending tingling vibrations up his arm that made him whimper softly despite how desperately he tried to bite it back.  But by the way his boss was savoring his blood, he doubted he even heard him.

Even in such a horrid, injured state, his boss maintained that curated clean-cut ambiance.  His hair was still immaculate, not a single strand out of place. It was seriously beyond Merritt why he cared so much, but with his boss so fangs deep in him, he found himself more daring.  He reached down, fingers tangling with the soft locks just to tousel them up a bit.  He had not anticipated his boss to grip him tighter, another low moan rumbling off the vamp.  

It should’ve scared him.  Yet Merritt found he quite enjoyed the way Bloodworth drank from him.  He didn’t mind at all how he’d tightened his hold on him out of instinct.  As if to reassure him he was all right when his boss suddenly loosened his grip, Merritt caressed the pointy tips of one of his reddened ears.  It instinctively curled inward on him, which only encouraged him to do it again.

How long they remained in his office like that, Merritt would never know.  Time came to a standstill. Only they existed during that moment, one where Merritt found all his worries and stress flowed free from his body and soul. He savored it for as long as he could, worried old memories would rear their ugly heads once it all came to an end.  

Until then, he wanted to enjoy it.  He wanted to believe a vampire wanted more than a delicious meal and could genuinely care for their blood donating partner.

Bloodworth released him with a wet pop, as if his fangs wanted to remain buried in him.  But Merritt knew he’d likely pulled away so he wouldn’t be too woozy after the exchange.  Merritt was fully aware of the effects of too much blood loss and prayed to the Goddesses he never experienced anything like that again.  

Still clouded by the lingering venom in his veins, he couldn’t hide the tiny moan that slipped past his lips when Bloodworth ran his tongue over the tender pinpricks to stanch the bleeding.  Warmth crept up his neck, but he couldn’t find himself able to look away in shame.  

Dark crimson stained his boss’s lips.  His once sickly pale complexion took on more color, especially when it came to his neck and pointy ears.  There was a faraway, glazed look in Bloodworth’s eyes when he met his gaze.  He parted his lips, exposing his own blood still stained on his fangs, then closed them once more before reaching into his pocket for a black handkerchief to wipe his mouth.  

“I hope I tasted good,” Merritt said without much forethought.  

Bloodworth choked on literal air, then in a hushed whisper sputtered out, “You did.”

It should not have sent such ripples of excitement through him to know his boss found the taste of his blood delightful, but it did. A smile crept up on his own lips as he asked curiously, “What do I taste like?  My blood, I mean.”

More color bloomed in Bloodworth’s face as he muttered, “It’s blood.  I’m sure you can imagine what it tastes like.”

“I remember from a vampire health studies course I had to take back in college that many vampires have preferred blood types because the flavors taste so rich to them.  Some even claimed blood types mimicked desserts and foods they once enjoyed.” Merritt was rambling, but there was something about having his blood taken that had left him more jittery.  

“It doesn’t matter.” Bloodworth fiddled with his tie.  “I appreciate you, Merritt.  Doing this for me, I mean.”

Merritt examined his arm, lightly touching the swollen marks left on his skin.  “I expected that to hurt like hell.  Guess you just know how to use your fangs unlike some vampires, right?” 

“If you wish to leave early tonight, you may.” Bloodworth rose from his desk, brushing by Merritt without so much of a glance to open his office door.

“Did I do or say something wrong, sir?” Merritt clasped shaky hands in front of himself.  

“No.” His response came clipped and hurried, like all he wanted to do was get Merritt out of his office.

“I’d recommend you at least stay here another hour and drink something sweet. I can normally judge how much blood affects a person, but you’re not a blood donor, so I can’t say anything with certainty.  Your body’s not used to it.” 

Merritt wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear at the moment, but it certainly wasn’t that.  He didn’t want to be dismissed.  It was logical that Bloodworth would want him to rest, but how he moved away from him like he didn’t even want to touch him, stung.  

Bloodworth was his boss.  They shared a simple exchange of blood, nothing more.  It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.

 “I don’t really want to risk flying home so soon after you drank from me, and it would help if I had something to do.” Merritt grasping for any little thing just to stay.  “I’ll continue going over those files, okay?  And since you’re not wishing to seek proper medical attention, I want to make sure you’re all right too.”

Awkward silence filled the room as Bloodworth stood at his door, running his fingers through his hair that Merritt had taken delight in disheveling.   “If that’s what you want to do.” 

“It is.” Merritt nodded.  “Unless you’ve changed your mind about seeking medical attention.  Then, I'll accompany you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital.” Bloodworth crossed his arms over his chest in a petulant manner that made Merritt want to snicker.  Yet the concern that crossed his face reminded Merritt that his boss was reasonable to be on tenterhooks after just being stabbed.  

“So that’s why I’ll stay here at the office with you.” Merritt moseyed over to him, offering his sweetest smile.  “We’ve got a lot of work to do, don’t we?  You know, I never would’ve imagined my necromancy magic to come this handy for law cases.  Then again, I hadn’t expected you to handle anything other than vampire-related issues.”

“I admire your work ethic, Merritt, but don’t burn yourself out too fast.” That hardened look his boss gave him made it feel more like a warning rather than a suggestion.  “You’re the greatest intern I’ve had, so I can’t afford to lose you.”

Merritt blushed, unable to bite back the smile that stretched across his lips.  “Do you really mean that, sir?”

“Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it.  I don’t give out sugarcoated praise.”

“Of course.  Thank you.” Merritt gazed out from the open door toward his desk, where Bandit had curled up in his chair to rest.  “Guess I should get back to those files.  I’ll order myself delivery food too.  Not really feeling like going out to eat anymore.”

Just as he prepared to head back to his desk, he faintly heard his boss murmur under his breath, “Peaches.”

“What?” Merritt looked back at Bloodworth with furrowed brows.

“That’s what your blood tastes like.”