It wasnât rejection and that was all Hadrian had asked for. A little piece of hope, a butterfly he could stick in a jar and place on a shelf. An acknowledgement that there was something more. That he wasnât just another means to an end. That he wasnât just singing for someone elseâs supper. His arms tightened automatically around Angel at the admission and he had to remind himself to be gentle - that the other was fragile to compared to him. âI know you are. I know, babyâŚI know.â Hadrian said; voice as soft as leaves. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the Nephilimâs cheek - a long, lingering kiss he had meant for the otherâs lips but decided against at the last second.Â
He wouldnât take. No matter what. He would not take from Angel. Not unless freely given. But even under such circumstances - as Angel was willfully offering up his own blood; Hadrian found himself pausing. The idea wasnât a bad one but the thought of hurting Angel in that manner was a paralysis all on itâs own. âItâs not about helping or being obligated, Angel.â He said, reaching across the table and pulling the tray bearing the meal heâd prepared over.Â
âItâs aboutâŚI swore to you that I would never hurt you or allow you to be hurt by anyone and I fuckinâ meant it. AndâŚâ Hadrian shifted so that Angel could have easier access to the plate in his arms. ââŚand that includes me. IâmâŚIâm not like other vampires, I donât know if youâve seen me when IâmâŚchanged over but it isnât a pretty sight. IâŚIâm not opposed to drinking from you, please donât think that. Itâs not that itâs justâŚIâm terrified of hurting youâŚâ It felt strange to be so honest but when had liberation ever been a pleasant experience?Â
Hadrian was better this way though. He knew that. He knew the forthright approach would always be his travelled path. âHow aboutâŚâ His voice became low, a whisper meant only for the otherâs ear. âHow about you eat and thenâŚâ He sighed; âAnd then we can try? IâŚI do admit the thought is fuckinâ tantalizing. Drinking from you, having you tremble beneath my hands. Feed you a few drops of my blood, kiss my way down your chestâŚâ Nuzzling into the side of Angelâs neck, Hadrian breathed deep - fighting down the toothsome shark beneath his flesh that begged to be let free.Â
âI donât mind tryingâŚbut if I hurt you, AngelâŚâ it was as if he could smell blood in the water. ââŚIâll starve before I hurt you.âÂ
  Sometimes Angel wondered if heâd just snapped and lost it. So many years as a slave could have left him insane at this point. He was honestly surprised it hadnât happened yet. Was Hadrian his way of explaining all of the evils he had experienced? Maybe the man had truly left two years ago and never returned. He found himself running his fingerâs across one of the manâs hands, needing to memorize the lines for when he was sure they would disappear for good.
  Angel eyed the food as the other spoke, wanting to ignore it, but knowing Hadrian wasnât likely to settle until Angel had ate something. So he reached for something simple, something easy on his stomach. He took a bite and swallowed before following the motion to do it again. Eating was almost like breathing to the slave anymore. Just to do it to survive.
   ...but it isnât a pretty sight.
  Eyes snapped to the manâs face then, a furrow coming across his brow before he could stop it. âYou donât scare me, Hadrian.â He told the other firmly. âSeeing you like that wonât change my idea about you.â And it was said with truth. Heâd seen many faces over his years in Krovs, it whatâs they did that stood out.
  Then the man was seeming to agree to the idea and Angel offered a small smile. âYouâll be gentle...â he told the other, confident in his words. âAnd if it does hurt... if only for a moment-- I donât care.â He would never care, not truly. âBecause I want to do that for you. I want you to trust yourself around me. I want you to take what I offer because for the first time in a long time I do it as myself and not as a slave.â