The skin of you're wrist begun to break, droplets of blood simmering to the surface as you're childhood friend sunk his teeth into you're wrist. The feeling stung, but you we're used too it. you were Rouge's blood bag for years, although he didn't like when you titled yourself that.

"I'm almost done." Rouge reassured, as he softly lapped at the minor wound that he'd inflicted against your soft skin. you observed patiently. "Done." He stated with a stoic tone, licking his lips.