Hi, hope you're having a good day today! I was wondering if you could do a scenario where a detective relucently lets a vampire superhero feed on him? mlm, perhaps?
“This is usually the other way around,” the detective hums, one hand in his pocket and the other tapping away the ash at the end of his cigarette. The superhero stands on the rooftop, spine stiff and his expression one of anxiousness.
The detective can practically smell his uneasiness in the air. He’s hiding in the shadows, almost as though he’s too frightened to come out.
“If you need my help on a case, I’m balls deep in the copycat killer case right now,” the detective told him firmly, already building a strong wall to the hero’s protests. Not that he’s making any. “So stop lurking in the shadows like you’re gonna bite my heart out. Jesus, it’s creepy.”
The superhero hesitates, and then steps out of the shadows. He looks worse for wear, and the detective’s eyes roll up and down his form with a clear air of judgement.
“Man,” he hums. “You look like shit.”
The superhero frowns at the cloud of smoke tumbling from his lips, his nose wrinkling in grim annoyance. “Can you put that out?”
“It’s a free country.”
“It stinks,” he snaps.
“Not my nose, not my problem,” the detective raises a brow. “What’s got your panties in a bunch? You’re gloomy.”
The superhero bites his tongue, deciding not to bite. He swallows the insult, his stiff shoulders sagging with a small sigh. The detective steals a few scrutinizing glances at him. Just to observe.
“I need...” He sighs sharply. “I need to feed.”
The detective’s gaze hardens. He already knows what he’s going to ask. “No.”
“I said you keep that shit away from me and I won’t hurl your ass in the nearest prison cell for taking a bite out of those innocent folk,” he reminded him sternly, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. “Don’t make me go back on it.”
“I’ve not been feeding,” the superhero whispers urgently. “I can’t. You know I’m new to this and I don’t know what to—”
“The answer is no. Jesus, I can’t believe you dragged me from my work for this.”
The superhero’s gaze softens. He looks crestfallen. “Please...”
The detective swallows back the words teetering on his tongue, drilling an intense gaze into the hero. He notices the eye bags, the pale complexion, and he definitely looks worse for wear. Sickly; the detective’s expression hardens, spitting out a sharp curse. He runs a hand through his hair, stamping the cigarette out under his boot. The orange tip fades into the rain soaked cement.
Why him? He almost wants to ask. He’s a detective, and he should figure this stuff out. He remembers when he pulled the superhero from the wreckage those few months ago, the bad shape he had been in.
This vampire stuff had really knocked him down. The detective hadn’t seen that old confidence in months.
He groans. He should say no. Instead, he rolls up his sleeve.
“Make it quick,” he growls. The superhero’s eyes brighten, and he takes a hesitant step forward.
He goes to grasp at the man’s arm, hesitating just before their skin touches. He notes the way his throat bobs, and then those eyes dart nervously to his neck. The detective knows the question before he even asks.
“Your neck, can I—”
“No,” he snaps, jerking his arm to redirect his faltering attention. “You’re already on thin ice. It’s this, or it’s nothing. Take your pick.”
The superhero’s lips press into a thin line. Then, he nods tersely, and flounders around him for a moment.
“You should sit,” he urges. “You’ll probably get dizzy, and—”
A sharp glare cuts him off. He gets the command. Shut up and hurry up.
The superhero takes a deep breath, thumb prodding the smooth surface of the detective’s flesh for a moment. He seems to simply admire the rush of blood underneath, before he pierces the flesh with his fangs. The detective holds back an instinctive hiss of pain, the sharp pricks almost zapping right up his spine. The superhero might have stopped to make sure he was okay before feeding, but he’d been starved for so long, that he lapped at the beads of blood straight away.
It’s an odd feeling; not unpleasant, but not easy to ignore.
The detective’s jaw clenches, and when the superhero is done, he hides the wound.
“Let’s not make this a habit, huh?”