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An Evening Nibble

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“Smells nice,” Eijirou purrs under his breath as he wraps his arms around Katsuki’s waist from behind, nuzzling the side of his throat with his face. His cheeks are cool to the touch; it sends a shiver down Katsuki’s spine, but he doesn’t protest, nor does he get alarmed. He simply lets out a soft chuckle.

“Me or the food?” he nudges Eijirou with his head. He’s finishing cooking - just idly stirring pieces of chicken around in an angry red, fiery-looking sauce.

“Does it matter?” Eijirou giggles. “…S’probably you, ...though I do like the smell of the food.”

“Suddenly developed a taste for food huh? Didn’t know you ate stuff.”
“I don’t. Just like the smell of it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Smells spicy. ...Like you.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes at that, but he’s still grinning warmly. Eijirou’s placing kisses down the side of his neck now, his lips all chilly, like he’s been outside for way too long, even though he’s just gotten off the couch. He’s really rather… room temperature all over. It’d be alarming if Katsuki wasn’t used to it. He gently pushes at his face with his free hand, visibly shivering at last when the kisses get too intense.

“You’re fuckin’ icy…!” he complains, holding back a small yelp. “Don’t kiss me when you’re this cold, fuck.”
He can practically feel Eijirou’s pout. Makes him feel a bit bad, so he pulls him back in with a groan.

“I’m hungry,” Eijirou whines.
“Yeah, I can tell. Go do something about it. You don’t have to hang in here and watch me cook and eat stuff. There’s nothing in it for you.”

...Eijirou does like to do that. Katsuki isn’t sure what’s so fascinating about watching him eat things like it’s some sort of a weird live mukbang. Probably living vicariously through him, since he doesn’t eat anything himself, who the fuck knows; he’s tried to offer food to Eijirou many times, but he always declines it. He doesn’t even seem that interested in the food itself - just watching Katsuki eat or cook. You know, like a creep. Katsuki doesn’t question it anymore.
Eijirou’s arms wrap around him tighter.

“Mrrrhhh…” 

“No.”

Eijirou lets out a soft huff.
“Go out, suck on some drunk lady or whatever, I’ll still be here when you get back.” Katsuki’s tone is firm. He turns the stove off and gives the chicken in the pan one last toss.
“But I don’t want a drunk rando,” Eijirou whines in protest, his grip on Katsuki not easing. “You’re the sweetest…”

Katsuki sucks in a breath when he feels she sharp points of Eijirou’s teeth graze against his throat. He doesn’t flinch - just shivers. He knows Eijirou would never dream of actually biting him without permission.
He sighs, weaving his fingers through his boyfriend’s red hair and tugging at it gently.
“No,” he repeats.

“...Please…?”
“You’re not a baby, I can’t feed you every day! I only got so much blood!”
“But myehhhh….”
“Eijirou. I literally cannot make new blood any faster. You had some just a while ago…”

He can feel Eijirou make a sad face against his neck again. The way his stance seems almost a little bit defeated is pretty telling. It’d have taken maybe one more firm rejection and he’d have given it up completely. He never really pushes it - he’d whine like a puppy begging for food off the table that he is not supposed to have, sure, but if Katsuki didn’t actually want to give in, he wouldn’t really push. He’d kiss his throat, snuggle him some more and then go out, and he would come back a couple hours later full of a stranger’s blood, warm to the touch, almost feverish sometimes - so full of life and stolen warmth, so touchy and cuddly and needy.

He’d have had his fill; nothing like when he drinks from Katsuki, always so afraid to take too much, or to be too rough with him, even when he’s assured that he doesn’t need to take timid little sips and that Katsuki can take it.
Though the more he takes, the less often he can do it... so it’s probably for the better.

It would have taken one more rejection.
But when Katsuki hears Eijirou’s soft, dejected sigh, the kind that tends to precede a soft ‘Okay...’ before he agrees to drop it and go out instead… he can’t say no again.
He groans.
And gives in.

“UGH. Fine.”

There’s a pause. Eijirou blinks, seemingly having come to life.
“...Wait, really?”
Katsuki huffs. “Yeah, really. But only a little. And you’re fuckin’... taking care of me if I faint, asshole. And you’re going out after to have a proper goddamn meal, you can’t live on nibbles forever. It creeps me out how cold you get. It can’t be fucking healthy.”
...God. Katsuki’s gonna have to invest in some iron supplements for himself. How does he have any goddamn blood still left when he’s this susceptible to Eijirou’s shitty puppy eyes?

He’s barely put his spicy chicken with rice into a bowl before Eijirou’s gently pulling him into the living room. (Well… “gently” for his standards. It’s a pull that’s hard to resist, considering how strong Eijirou is.)
“Couch?” he’s purring, and Katsuki just huffs a soft Sure. He’d have eaten his dinner on the couch anyway, most likely.

He’s flushy by the time they actually settle down on the couch, thinking he should have probably just let Eijirou nibble at him right there by the stove; it’s way less awkward when he just does it. This is like asking “Wanna go have sex?” instead of just… doing it. It’s weird.

Eijirou sits down, leaning against the armrest, and Katsuki settles against him, seated between his legs; he stretches across the whole couch, crossing his ankles on one of the cushions comfortably. He keeps his dinner in his lap, as if to demonstrate that this really is just a little thing, and he intends to get back to his food right after. Eijirou isn’t the only one who’s hungry.

Something dumb is still going on on the TV, on low volume and blending into the background - it really feels like they are just settling down to eat dinner together like a normal couple. Not one where only one of them actually ever consumes any food.
With a small huff, Katsuki pops a piece of chicken into his mouth while Eijirou nuzzles at his throat once again, his cool breath tickling Katsuki’s skin.

“Will you go out with me later?” Eijirou purrs, one hand creeping under the front of Katsuki’s shirt to rub at his belly. Katsuki’s not quite sure whether he’s shivering because of the intimacy or the coolness of the touch on his sensitive skin.

“Nah,” he breathes out, his voice a hair too shaky for his liking. “Don’t gotta watch you crawl all over somebody… you’re the only one with a weird kink for watching people eat, ‘kay.”
Eijirou laughs against Katsuki’s throat, sharp teeth teasing at it again.
“Aw… would you get jealous watching me?” he murmurs, obviously just teasing; his voice goes low and husky as he traces his fingers over Katsuki’s jaw to tip his head back.
“Jealous? Of some fuckin’ extra? Keep dreamin’,” Katsuki scoffs.
It doesn’t come out as steady as he’d like.

Somehow he doesn’t protest when Eijirou picks up his bowl of food and sets it down onto the coffee table without a word - probably so he can lace their fingers and hold Katsuki’s hand in his lap without anything in the way. In fact, Katsuki barely holds back a shaky moan when he’s pulled closer against Eijirou’s chest, squeezed tight in that familiar possessive grip from before.

Eijirou peppers his throat with kisses, clearly needy and eager, but still taking his time to feel for his pulse with his lips. Katsuki’s a sweet treat he tends to want to savor, after all.

I love you, he mouths against his skin. There’s a gentle graze of teeth... a couple more soft kisses… and then a sharp sting of a bite, when the two sharp points of Eijirou’s fangs pierce Katsuki’s skin. It makes him gasp, makes him tense up for just a moment. Eijirou crushes him against himself in a tight embrace, squeezing his hand until the tension leaves.

A soft moan leaves Eijirou’s mouth when blood gushes into it. Katsuki meets it with a soft sound of his own, a little moan, one of both discomfort and pleasure. It barely hurts, really. With the little drinks Eijirou tends to take there is none of the uncomfortable pull in Katsuki’s veins that he would feel if Ei were to really draw the blood out. He’s gently licking at the wound, taking little sips while holding Katsuki so tight that it feels like he might want to absorb him into his body in more ways than one.

Katsuki’s fingers find their way back into Ei’s hair. He has his head rested on Eijirou’s shoulder, his throat bared for him. He’s pretty much slumped against him, unable to help it. There’s something about this kind of connection that’s utterly incapacitating; it’s like their souls are touching, on a non-physical level. Like he can feel his own pulse through Eijirou’s skin, though he knows that he’s most likely just imagining it. He almost regrets settling down with his back to him like this, because this way he can’t cling to him, just allow himself to be held.

He lets out a soft, strained gasp - a whine almost, when Eijirou pulls too hard and too suddenly.
There’s a string of little apologies whispered against his throat, Sorry, sorry baby. Gentle, soothing licks across the bleeding wounds. They sting a little.
Katsuki’s breathing hard, his face so flushy that he can feel the heat of it.

He can tell when Eijirou’s done - he’s biting into his own tongue to make it bleed, gently licking at Katsuki’s throat again, kissing the wounds as they begin to close up. Weird vampiric aftercare, sure… Katsuki’s never questioned what it is in the blood that does it. He doesn’t think Eijirou really knows, anyway.

He’s left shivering in his arms, suddenly almost too cold. Or maybe it’s that Eijirou’s warmer now.
Each kiss to his neck sends a shiver through him, and fuck, he knows he’s told Eijirou that he’d only allow him to drink a small amount, but just like always, here he is, upset that it’s over and that the deep connection shared through the blood is severed. He mouths at Eijirou’s face affectionately, feeling some of his own warmth coursing through him.

“You’re the sweetest treat,” Eijirou whispers, turning Katsuki’s face gently so that he can give him a proper kiss. His lips taste like blood - metallic and weird. Katsuki still licks into his mouth, brushing his tongue against the sharp points of his teeth. He can taste the faint remnants of Eijirou’s own blood in his mouth, burning hot like spice or strong alcohol, and however weird it is, it makes him moan, makes him want to kiss him deeper.

...Eijirou gently pushes him away, planting soft kisses down the side of his face.
This time it’s Katsuki who’s whining in protest.
“Shh... you can’t have too much.”
“...Says the one who literally whines for blood all the time like I’m made of dog treats, you can’t… fuckin’... talk shit,…” he protests breathlessly.
Eijirou giggles and pinches his side, going back to licking at his neck like he’s a big cat gently grooming him.

“Okay? Doesn’t hurt?” His concern earns him a very gentle smack.
“I’m fine. ‘s just a bite.”
It really is. Katsuki’s more horny than hurt.

He’s still shivering. Feels weaker than he’d like.
Eijirou pulls a blanket over them, smoothing it across Katsuki’s legs, then reaches for his dinner to place it back in his lap. He picks up his chopsticks, obviously deciding that he’s going to feed him.
Somehow, Katsuki doesn’t mind it all that much.

Eijirou doesn’t go anywhere that evening, and neither does Katsuki. They spend the night cuddled up on the couch in the faint glow of the TV - Eijirou doesn’t leave even long after Katsuki’s fallen asleep on his chest.