"Darlin', I don't see how you can stand to do that. I can't imagine it's anymore comfortable for you than it is for me." His tone was sympathetic as he watched and felt you gently bite down on his forearm again. He managed to hold back most of the pain or discomforted expression that threatened to cross his face, and instead kept his focus on where The Count sat grazing. Both his arms bore the marks of your teeth either in the form of scars of your jaws or from more recent nips which still sat red. He couldn't remember how you'd gotten into the habit or if you'd always been like this during the time he'd know you. He didn't care much either way, it wasn't as if you were breaking skin so he figured it wasn't doing any harm to anyone by letting you do as you pleased, and if that meant being quiet while you bit his arm to show affection then so be it. While he felt you bite down on his arm again, he brought a hand up to pat gingerly on your back in his own attempt at acknowledging your affection. The rough calluses on his palm finding the course material of your shirt as he rubbed your back briefly. Eventually ending it with the question of: "Was there anything you needed, darlin'?"