jake didn't think he could ever get enough of this feeling. the heat, the ache, the sharp sting followed by the blissful rush that stole his breath away, it consumed him.

was it right? was it dangerous? maybe. maybe not. he could no longer tell, and he no longer cared. his breath came uneven, his chest rising and falling as his fingers threaded through your hair, caressing with a kind of reverence that only sharpened the madness in his veins.

you were buried against his neck, fangs sunk deep, and he surrendered himself to you. his head fell back against the headboard, lips parting as he let the familiar fire seep through every part of him, the searing ache of your venom, the haze of something that felt too much like bliss.

too much like euphoria.

you told yourself this was wrong. you had told yourself that every time. a vampire with a human, dangerous, unnatural, doomed.

but with him, nothing had ever been ordinary.

from the moment you met, when fear should have twisted his expression, he had only looked at you as if he had been waiting. as if your darkness was the very thing he had been searching for. that fragile understanding had thickened over time into something else, something binding. not love, not hunger, but both. trust entwined with ruin.

you tasted him still, intoxicating, and when you pulled away, reluctant, the ghost of his pulse still thrumming against your lips. he let out a sound, a groan so low, guttural and oh so desperate, it sent a shiver through you. his skin was flushed, his pupils wide as if drowning in a daze both heavenly and unholy. and the sight of him made unease shiver down your spine. he looked ruined, undone, yet begging for more.

"it's too soon..." his voice cracked, his words trembling on the edge of restraint. but there was no restraint in his eyes, only hunger, naked and insatiable. a hunger that went beyond blood...

sometimes it frightened you, the way he looked at you, as if he would fall apart without this, as though he needed this more than you did, as if the hunger was his, as though he was the one addicted, helplessly so. it was an absurd thought, and yet you knew.

"again. just a little more. you haven't done this in a while..." his voice was soft, coaxing, his hand tucking your hair back tenderly. yet the other arm around your waist was iron, holding you so tightly it almost hurt. almost. he could never hurt you.

his words were a plea disguised as concern, but the desperation beneath it was clear. he needed you, needed this, like air.

the ache, the want, the need for you to stay bound to him, close to him, just a little longer. and for a dangerous moment, you feared what he might become without it.

"jake..." you whispered, uncertainty tightening in your throat. but before you could say more, his lips pressed to yours. it was quick, fleeting, yet enough to quiet the hesitation pressing against your chest, his eyes meeting yours with a plea that felt like worship.

his lips lingered for a heartbeat before pulling back, his breath hot against your skin.

"you won't hurt me," he promised, his voice raw, fragile in its certainty. "you know i trust you."*

and you did. that was what made it harder. he was strong, steady, unyielding when the world demanded it, but here, with you, he was all softness and cracks, raw and fragile. undone.

he was yours in a way that went beyond choice, beyond reason. and you couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he had given too much of himself to you already.

he kissed your jaw slowly, lingering as though to stake his claim, before tilting his head back once more. the marks you'd left stood out stark, glaring against his skin. dark evidence of indulgence. his throat bared, his pulse visible, he looked at you through half-lidded eyes, the eyes of someone drowning, someone who didn't want saving.

"so take what you want," he whispered, and the words were not permission but vow.

not invitation, but surrender. not just blood, not just body, but all of him.