The situation had been stressful, the last time, so she hadn’t gotten to properly experience it.
In a dungeon where she might actually have been killed, her tension had been high, and though she’d had a warning of what Maou was going to do before he bit her, she hadn’t really been able to react to it much before he went into his superpowered final mode. At the time, the pitiful Maou becoming full of power and confidence took most of her attention, and she hadn’t been able to focus on the biting itself.
So it’s hard for her now to remember, but she thinks she may have liked it.
The quickest way to figure that out is to get him to bite her again, but… Her cheeks blaze just thinking about it. Although they’ve kissed quite a bit, they haven’t really moved past that. Maou might have been perfectly willing to grope her when he was trying to determine her strengths and skills, but now that they’re dating and he thinks of her as a woman rather than just an enemy, he’s much more reluctant to even get his hands up her shirt. It’s cute, but a little frustrating.
How to deal with that? Maybe the direct approach will work, or maybe she needs to work him up to it…
Maou is currently laying on his bed reading a book of knitting patterns, which she pulls out of his hands and sets aside (after doggy-earing the page he was on, she’s not heartless). She sits down on top of him.
“But I was reading that-” he starts to protest, and then stops when she leans down to kiss him. Even he won’t complain about his girlfriend interrupting his reading when it’s for that. Instead he returns the kiss, stroking the back of her hair softly.
She deepens the kiss, more aggressively than she normally would. Thankfully he’s not scared off: with him responding in kind, she figures that she’ll have good luck with what she’s after today.
After her tongue leaves his mouth and she catches her breath, she says, “Bite me.”
He blinks at her, clearly confused, a light flush still visible on his face. “I have heard that expression in your world before, if I’m correct it means-”
“I don’t mean figuratively,” she says before he gets the wrong idea. She pulls at the collar of her shirt, exposing more of her skin. “Bite me.”
“Oh. Oh! You’d like to see my final form again? I can’t blame you, it is majestic,” Maou says, a smug note coming to his voice before quickly disappearing. “But I can’t say this is the right time for it. I wouldn’t have anything to use all that power on. Perhaps later I can show you the glory once again-”
She sighs, and decides that the only way to get through to him is through being explicit as possible. “I don’t care if you drink my blood again, but when you bit me last time, it felt good. Bite me again. Please?”
This time she can tell he understands by the way his cheeks go red. “Well… when you ask so sweetly, how could I not grant you your request?” He sets one hand on the back of her neck and leans in closer, before slowly sinking in his teeth.
It hurts, as she expected, but there’s a rush of endorphins that accompany the bite. She moans, distinctly from pleasure rather than pain.
He pulls back. There’s not much blood on his teeth: he’d been as careful as he could with his fangs. “You really liked that? I mean, of course you-”
“Do it again,” she says. She tugs on her shirt, enough to bare her shoulder. “Please.”
He doesn’t say anything this time, just moves on to her shoulder and leaves another bite there.
The process repeats: eventually her shirt comes off entirely, and his startled, “Do you-?” is interrupted by a, “Yes, absolutely.” Her body is littered with bite marks, and she thinks she’ll be wearing a shirt with long sleeves and a high collar tomorrow. When she can think, that is.
“What do you like?” she asks, hazy-eyed. “You’ve spoiled me enough.”
He thinks about that, blushing heavily, and then says, “I don’t know.” When she stares at him, he justifies it: “I’ve never had an interest in this sort of pastime. It’s only worthwhile with someone at my level, and the only person who could deserve me is you. ...So I’ve never done this.”
She smiles gently. It’s nothing she didn’t assume, but him admitting it is sweet. Pushing at his chest until he lies down so that she’s on top of him, she whispers in his ear, “I’ll just try everything.” He shudders.
She doesn’t have fangs to bite him with, but there are good parts to that, too. Some things, she’s nervous enough about already without fangs to get in the way. Licks to the shell of his ear turn to kisses on his chest, turn to a tongue dipping into his belly button (he laughs, then immediately denies it), turn to a mouth wandering further south.
She’s grateful she doesn’t have close neighbors, because he’s loud. She can’t say she’s particularly skilled or experienced, but from his repeated gasps of her name and the way his body shakes she thinks he can’t even tell. Which is fine by her.
She hadn’t kissed him earlier because she didn’t want to taste blood. She thinks this probably tastes worse.
When she pushes herself up, she looks between his sharp teeth, to his long fingernails, to finally where she’d just been and is now soft and no good for anything.
“Next time we do me first,” she says. “Okay?”
“Whatever you want,” Maou mumbles, eyes shut.
“In that case, I want another castle.”
“Most of them are tourist attractions here, are they not…?”
“They are, I was just checking if you were awake.” She kisses his lips, and he smiles. “I love you.” Impractical fangs, nails, and all.