He’d been restraining himself for so, so long. But you… you were slowly making him lose his sanity.

It had started innocently enough - a paper cut while going through the first page of his novel. He hadn’t even had the time to get tempted enough before you guessed the contents of the book and took a bandaid out of a drawer, covering the blossoming drop of blood on your finger.

But then it started getting worse - it started going from paper cuts to accidentally cutting yourself with cutlery when having lunch together. He’d immediately lose all his remaining food hunger he had and couldn’t focus on much else. And then you picked at your scabs out of boredom, blood on your skin and under your nails.

And then it became too much when you got injured on the job. Other than the instinct to murder whoever had managed to get close enough to hurt you, he had to hold himself from pulling you close and licking the injury away. He hadn’t had a good drink in so long…

He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been furious or glad when you told me you’d done this to tease him. Because of course you knew, you somehow always knew everything, bless your genius mind - but you’d gone out of your way to get injured to get him riled up?

He just couldn’t resist you when, after he’d bandaged you up, you proposed to give him a sip. How could he when you seemed to open to just give yourself to him?

So he was finally holding you, rough and shaky hands gripping your arms, as his teeth finally sunk into your shoulder. And he was in Heaven.