“Charles, I don’t need—”
“Mate, it’s alright,” Charles says. “Just drink.”
And maybe he should be worried that he’s being too pushy. Maybe he should be worried about the part of him that’s not thinking of Edwin, the part of him that wants this so much, wants the delicious sting of Edwin’s fangs and the firm, secure grip of his hands, which is just so bloody awkward when Edwin clearly doesn’t want that, when he has never loved the fact that he needs blood to survive and has never found it sexy the way some other vampires do, but—
But then Edwin is sinking his teeth into Charles’ neck and Charles is too busy trying not to melt into a puddle to worry about much of anything.
Vampire!Edwin and immortal!Charles… This works incredibly well!