Page 115 of Caller of Crows
"How long was I out?"
"All night," Altair murmured. "Longer than I expected." His features tightened briefly. "New vampires need to feed every few hours to get through the first night without risking death." He brought his wrist to his own mouth and bit into it, drawing blood. Then he lifted it to Sven's lips.
The scent hit Sven's nostrils, and before he knew what he was doing, his tongue was lapping up the liquid as it spilled from Altair's wound. He shuddered as his teeth elongated in response. Without conscious thought, he clamped them around Altair's forearm, sealing them into the damaged flesh and swallowing greedily. He wasn't prepared for how incredible Altair tasted, for the burst of flavors that washed over his palate. And damn, he never wanted to stop drinking.
It took Altair placing his free hand on the side of Sven's neck and squeezing lightly to get Sven to withdraw his fangs from his flesh. He looked up at his lover in confusion, lips wet with blood as he tried to understand why Altair would make him stop.
"Easy," Altair whispered softly.
Sven nodded, licking his lips one last time to chase any errant drops of crimson, but despite his best intentions, his fangs stayed extended. "Fuck, how do you…?" He gestured at his teeth.
"Practice," Altair said. "Once you're accustomed to being a vampire, you can control that reaction most of the time." He brushed his thumb over Sven's cheek. "Speaking of reactions… How are you feeling?"
Sven assessed himself for a moment, taking stock of how his body felt. Everything seemed weird, not quite like before. His nose seemed more sensitive, his vision sharper and unbothered by the lack of light in the room. He heard his own heartbeat—and Altair's.
And… "My arm doesn't hurt."
Altair smiled. "Yes, I doubt you'll need the splint any longer. I'll have the doctor come in later to give you a full once-over."
"Can't wait." Sven glanced at Altair's wrist where his lover's self-inflicted wound was already closing. "I didn't know vampires could feed on each other."
"Not normally," Altair explained. "But a sire's blood can feed his newborn progeny for the first few days after their turning. After that… Well, we have enough blood in the club."
"I see." Sven licked his lips, where the taste of Altair's blood still lingered. "But Icanstill drink from you after, right? It's not like… harmful?"
Altair smirked and ran the tip of his tongue across his teeth in a gesture that made Sven shudder with anticipation. "As long as we both find it enjoyable, there is no issue."
Sven grinned. "Good."
Altair studied him intently for a moment, and then Sven felt his presence brush against his mind. It was the oddest sensation. Not unwelcome, but foreign and new. Still, it took Sven only about a second to understand what he was feeling. "You're trying to read my thoughts."
Altair paused and his presence retreated from Sven's mind, before it could go away entirely, though, Sven chased it. He wasn't exactly sure how he did that, he simply followed his instincts, and it worked, because he saw surprise flit across Altair's features before his presence pressed closer against Sven. Their minds touched and blended, and Sven picked up a rush of emotions from the vampire—love, affection, worry. All mixed together.
Altair reached for him, gently tracing his fingertips over Sven's face in a careful caress. "I didn't know you would be able to do that."
"Is it because you sired me?"
"No." Altair's expression turned thoughtful, and Sven felt like he could read the questions on the surface of Altair's mind even before he voiced them. "I did not have this kind of connection with my sire, or with Nephariel. So maybe it's…"
"Because I'm your mate?" Sven finished for him.
"It must be." Altair nodded slowly as Sven adjusted to the intensity of sensations running between them.
"This is…" Amazing? Awesome? Insane? Incredible? Whatever this was, it was strange and beautiful and intimate all at the same time, and Sven didn't have the words to describe it.
Luckily, Altair didn't need him to speak. He simply pressed a kiss to Sven's lips. A whisper-soft touch that sent shivers down Sven's spine, that made Sven reach for his vampire and deepen the contact between them, chasing the faint remnants of blood flavor still clinging to Altair's mouth. It was easy, so easy, to lean against his lover, and to feel Altair's arousal pulse through their mental connection.
Before Sven knew it, they were wrapped up in each other's arms, Altair's fingers digging into his back as they clung to each other, exchanging soft kisses. Their legs entwined and their hips rocked together, erections grinding against one another in a delicious rhythm.
He felt everything Altair did: the soft texture of his own hair brushing against Altair's fingers, the drag of his nails along the pale skin of his lover's back, the hitch in his breath when Altair moved his lips lower, over the smooth line of his neck. He felt it when Altair's pulse kicked up, when his senses sharpened, and when desire sparked hotter as Altair nibbled at the spot where his shoulder met his neck. He felt Altair's fangs graze over his skin as Altair sucked at the skin there.
The promise of bliss was thick in the air, in the way their bodies slid together, in the way Altair's cock rubbed against his. It built and it rose, and every inch of him wanted, needed release. More. God, he needed so much more.
But instead of continuing to grind their groins together, Altair raised himself above Sven. He gazed into Sven's eyes, his own shining red as he whispered a single word, "Bite."
Sven froze for a millisecond, processing that request and then his fangs itched and lengthened instinctively as desire rushed through his body. When Altair tipped his head to the side, offering Sven his throat, Sven responded to the silent command immediately and sank his fangs into Altair's neck. The taste of blood spilled over his tongue, rich and sweet, and he moaned at the pleasure that ran through him.
He drank, pulling Altair closer to him with every swallow, as the world around them dissolved. Nothing else mattered now but the two of them. Sven could barely breathe. His entire world consisted of the beat of Altair's heart and the life pulsing just under his vampire's skin, flowing into his mouth. His whole body hummed with energy. His nerves danced and crackled. His dick ached. But he couldn't tear his fangs from Altair's throat to make any kind of coherent plea.
