#vandrew

"Neil."

"What?"

Andrew has been studying Neil for a while now. Longer than most humans he comes across, at least. His favorite blood bag, Aaron calls him, and he’s half right.

Andrew knows from Neil's tone that nothing of value will be said tonight. Andrew also knows Neil can't stand the press of fingers on muscle when he's this tight.

So he leans back, brings an elbow up to rest on Neil's shoulder.

"Can I?"

"Can you what?" Neil asks, irritable.

"This." Andrew digs his elbow into the muscle, once, briefly, and Neil hisses.

"Can I?"

"Yeah."

Andrew digs in. He drags along the ridge, and it's like tilling cold earth. Neil groans, but he doesn't tense or twitch away.

Andrew pushes again, over and over, noting each intake of breath, each murmur of pain as Neil's head slowly tilts forward.

"You should probably breathe," Andrew says, pressing hard against the knot.

"Fuck you," Neil mutters, before letting out a long breath and inhaling again.

He focuses on his breathing after that, and Andrew watches his pulse slow in his neck until it's a steady beat.

Neil relaxes into Andrew until he can't get a good angle any more.

Neil's breathing is quieter now, his knee still.

"Mmm."

"Better?"

"Mm-hm."

He's sounding loopy, and Andrew might think he had already drank from him if he didn't still feel the ache in his gums and in his gut.

As if reading Andrew's mind, Neil tilts his head back and to the side, exposing his neck with half lidded eyes. His skin glows. In the moonlight, he and Andrew are almost the same shade.

"Thirsty?"

Andrew presses his nose against Neil's throat, warm warm. Neil has a new job, and he doesn't smell like sugar and butter any more. He smells lik printer paper and cherry handsoap, stress sweat and burnt coffee.

"Later." Andrew brushes his lips against Neil's skin, and Neil doesn't twitch away.