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It’s been a terrible night. A long, awful night that’s left them both strung out and weary as they enter their haven. Eva can feel the weight of the night’s events settle heavily on her shoulders—the ache in her side from a set of bruised ribs, the gnawing hunger in her stomach, the whispers of her Beast clawing at her mind—as Jasper locks the door behind them.
Her eyes are closed—an attempt to focus on blocking out the demanding hiss of her Beast—but she can feel his hand at the center of her back as he asks, “Are you doing alright?”
Eva shakes her head absently. For once, she’s in worse shape than him. Jasper had gotten lucky, avoiding the worst of the damage sent in his direction, while the necessary blood sorcery for the night's events had tested her hunger and left her desperate to feed but with no good options in sight. Combine that with tedious politics and an ill-timed brawl, and she wasn’t doing particularly well.
She’d held herself together on the way home, but now she can feel her Beast nudging her toward violence from some place deep within her chest.
He would not fight you, it says in that painfully familiar voice—his voice, logical and reasonable in all things, even as it instructs her to ignore her own heart. He would let you take whatever you needed, my dear. One must simply ask.
“Are you hungry?” Jasper asks, “Want me to get you something?”
Take him now and end this foolishness. Give in to your hunger, feed yourself. You are of no use to anyone starving.
Eva shakes her head again. “I can… warm something up for myself.”
Jasper’s hand leaves her back to instead touch her cheek as he moves to stand in front of her. He tilts her chin up to make her meet his eyes—her Beast whispers in the corners of her mind, insisting that she should simply grab his wrist and sink her teeth into his dark veins without delay; he’s so close after all, it would be so easy. She pushes the voice away as best she can.
“You’re exhausted,” Jasper says, worry creasing his brow as he gazes down at her.
Eva lets out a dry laugh, amused by the understatement despite herself. “Yes… yes, I am.”
“Let me take care of you.”
Some part of her wants to refuse, to insist that she’s strong enough to handle this on her own, that she doesn’t need to be coddled. It’s just a bit of hunger, after all, just a few bruises and scrapes. She’s had far worse in her long life, she’s survived this long without someone else looking after her.
But his eyes are so blue, his gaze is so soft, and he’s touching her like she’s something indescribably precious. Her fangs ache even more than her tired body and she wants nothing more than to rest.
His thumb strokes her cheek and any coherent defense or rebuttal she might have had melts away. Being taken care of sounds nice after such a horrible night.
“Okay,” she agrees with a sigh.
“Go get comfortable and I’ll get you something to drink.” He releases her cheek and moves to instead rub her arms as he speaks, a small bit of comfort and reassurance as he smiles down at her. “You want anything special?”
“Yes… something to take the edge off the pain, if we have it. Nothing too strong, though. As hungry as I am, if I go with the LSD… I’ll just spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and playing with your hands.”
“You know I don’t mind.” He grins down at her, teeth sharp and enticing.
“All the same,” she says, placing a hand over his where it rests on her arm, “Just some low level painkillers tonight, I think.”
“I think I can manage that. Bottom shelf on the right?” She nods in answer. “Now go relax, get ready for bed. I’ll be in in a minute.”
Jasper presses a quick kiss to her hair before moving away to the minifridge in the living room where she stores her blood. Eva watches him for a moment, taking in how he has to crouch down to reach the right shelf, the careful way he cradles the blood bag in his long fingers. She can’t help but smile as he meticulously pours the blood into her electric kettle, careful not to spill a single drop, mimicking the steps he’s seen her perform so many times. For her, the preparations are so routine she can go through the motions without thinking. But for him, although he’s learned quickly, they are still something he is striving to master. He executes each step of the simple ritual as if it was an essential part of a larger puzzle, and she has always enjoyed watching him work.
Take what is owed you, her Beast whispers. Why wait for bagged blood when his vitae is right there, child?
Because I like him too much for that, she answers, hungry enough to talk back to her Beast but not quite hungry enough to pick an actual fight. She turns away from the scene of vampiric domesticity, hoping to pull her Beast’s attention with her. Just be patient. Good things come to those who wait.
Do not delay your satisfaction over sentimentality. He is the best thing you have ever tasted. What better reward can come from waiting?
She ignores that voice as she walks down the hall to their shared bedroom, too tired to try to reason further with the bloodthirsty monster inside her head.
The bedroom is small, but it has become far more cozy since she moved in—a gauzy tapestry pinned up on one wall, her jewelry on the nightstand next to their stack of books, a few extra pillows and blankets on the narrow bed. She strips off her red dress, looking down at the rips in the skirt and the matching cuts on her thigh. With any luck, she’ll be able to heal the wounds tomorrow evening, so long as her Beast stays in check, but the dress will need to be mended before she can wear it again. For now though, she tucks the garment away in their closet—positioned somewhere between white lace and black cotton—and digs out a set of pajamas. The faded concert tee and sleep shorts are soft from years of wear and comfortingly familiar. She’s just taken off her flower crown and necklaces and sat down on the bed—half-considering just crawling under the covers and waiting there until dawn—when Jasper pushes open the door.
A rich floral scent follows him into the room as he enters. Eva closes her eyes and breathes in deep, savoring the sweetness of the air.
“Is that my jasmine incense?” she asks, smiling as he carefully places the stick in her incense burner.
“Yeah, uh, I think so.” He shrugs. “It… it smelled like the one you burned when I was having that really bad night a couple weeks back, so…”
Eva’s had decades to memorize the properties of different plants—to know peppermint for cramps and lavender for sleep and roses for inflammation—but Jasper, for all his studies, has not dived as deeply into herbalism as her.
“Jasmine for calm and relaxation,” she recites, “You risked lighting a match just for me?”
She knows it is no small gesture among their kind, especially considering his personal history with fire.
“I said I was gonna take care of you, didn’t I?” Jasper replies, handing her a large mug, “One serving of painkiller-infused blood, as requested.”
Her Beast hisses, its usual reserved demeanor cracking in its hunger and frustration.
“Thank you,” Eva says sweetly as Jasper settles next to her on the edge of the bed. He watches her as she takes her first sip. The blood is just right, not hot enough to scald her tongue but no longer cold from the refrigerator, and tinged with that familiar undercurrent of chemical comfort from the drugs—like waves over sea glass, she thinks distantly, something to smooth the jagged edges.
“Perfect,” Eva whispers, and she sees a bit of tension leave Jasper’s tall frame at her praise, clearly pleased to have gotten it right. He moves to unlace his boots then, and Eva leans her head on his shoulder as she drinks, letting the warmth of the blood flow through her and quiet her Beast with every mouthful. She can feel the drugs in her veins, the way they sing against her vitae, lightening the burden she carries with each swallow and easing the pain away as best they can.
Jasper wraps an arm around her after he’s kicked off his shoes, but waits for her to finish drinking before he speaks.
“Feeling better?” he asks as she licks the last drops of blood from the corners of her mouth.
“Much,” she answers, “Thank you.”
He takes the empty mug from her hands and places it on the nightstand. She nuzzles into his chest, leaning her weight against him. She already feels lighter, even if her tolerance prevents a more extreme high from the painkillers alone.
“How else can I help?” Jasper asks, breaking the comfortable silence, “I mean… I had an idea, but it might be… really stupid, so I’m happy to do whatever you’d like.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Uh, well…” His words trail off into the contemplative snarl she’s learned to read as embarrassment.
“What is it?” Eva can’t help but smirk. Jasper adorably flustered is a sight she’s grown to thoroughly enjoy and the drugs in her veins are already inclining her toward giggly.
“Would it help if… Would you like me to give you a back rub?” he finally manages.
Eva laughs, pressing her face against his collarbone as she does. The drugs may help her see the humor in everything, but he’s the one who inspires this kind of unabashed mirth.
She recovers from her giggles just enough to ask, “Are you trying to seduce me, Jasper?”
She remembers boys with similar suggestions—boys who were alive and breathing and offering massages with ulterior motives in mind. It was a way to ask without asking at a time when being straightforward about one’s desires was still seen as taboo. Eva doesn’t mind a little playful seduction; she’s been known to employ some slightly devious flirtation tactics herself. Letting her hands wander as the two of them sit curled up together on the couch, distracting him with kisses while he reads out loud until he can’t concentrate on anything but her, stepping in just a little too close to brush past him in the library or down in the Labyrinth—but, even then, she still appreciates everyone being clear about what they want.
“I mean, I—if you thought that would help,” Jasper starts, “I’d be more than willing to participate, but… I was really just… offering a back rub. I thought it might help you relax.”
She places a hand on his chest, trying to ease his nervousness. “A massage sounds… nice. I’d like that. What should I… where do you need me?”
“Just, uh, lie down and I’ll… get to work.”
She stretches up to kiss him on the cheek, before lying back and rolling over to face away from him. She breathes in the scent of jasmine that lingers in the air and tries to let go of her stress.
Eva feels Jasper move beside her, hears the bed frame shift and creak as he readjusts his position. And then his hands are on her, moving slowly over her shirt as if he’s trying to map the shape of her through the fabric.
He is careful, so deliberately gentle as he trails his fingers up her spine and over her ribs. When his hand accidentally finds the large bruise on her side, she flinches. The discomfort is muffled by the drugs, but not gone. He murmurs a quick apology as he moves away from the spot, and she knows him well enough to trust that he won’t touch it again tonight. Eventually, he settles on her shoulders and presses down on her tired muscles, trying to force them to relax.
Eva doesn’t often get to be pampered—their unlives are busy these nights and there is always more work to do—but tonight she lets herself be a little indulgent. He presses his thumbs in near the base of her neck and she finds herself sighing at his touch.
His ministrations continue for another few minutes before she asks, “Would you mind if I took my shirt off? I know you said you weren’t… trying to do anything. And I’ll leave it on if that makes you more comfortable, but… I’d like to feel you.”
There’s a slight growl in his voice when he answers, “Y-yeah, that’s fine. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“You’re sure?” she asks, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Yes.” One of his hands moves below the hemline of her shirt then, pressing against the small of her back, and she arches into his touch. “I’m sure.”
“Good… I love your hands on me.”
Her shirt ends up discarded on the floor, forgotten completely as Jasper moves to kneel above her, straddling her hips. He returns to his earlier place, pressing his thumbs in careful circles near her neck before rolling his knuckles along her shoulder blades. His hands are cold, but so is she, and without the fabric barrier in between, this feels somehow even more irresistibly intimate. Eva lets herself sink into the sensation of it all.
Her body is dead. It doesn’t carry stress the same way anymore; hitting the right pressure points won’t suddenly heal the bruised ribs he’s carefully avoiding or mend the cuts on her leg. But being touched like this still feels good. And being touched like this by someone she loves feels divine.
He trails his nails down the pale expanse of her smooth skin, carefully dodging her injuries and leaving delicate scratches in his wake. She hums her approval as his hands grip just above her hips, his fingers pressing against the tense muscles of her lower back.
For several long minutes, they continue like that in companionable silence, the quiet broken only by the occasional sigh or groan or gravelly purr. Nothing but touch and pressure and the delicious easing of tension. But as Jasper’s hands skim up her back again, the heels of his palms pressing into the hollows just below her shoulder blades, Eva finally speaks up again.
“How are your hands good at everything?”
“What?” he responds. She can’t see his face from where she lies, eyes closed and cheek resting against her pillow, but she can imagine his bemused expression.
“They’re good at drawing… and building… braiding my hair… and playing piano…”
“You’ve never actually heard me play the piano,” he interjects.
“I trust you wouldn’t lie to me about that.” He lets out an amused growl but lets her continue. “And I think I’ve made it very clear on several occasions how much I enjoy your other, more… amorous skills.” Another growl from him, though a bit hungrier than the last.
“And now this…” Eva adds with an extra sigh, “It’s not fair that you’re so talented.”
She hears the bed frame squeak and feels Jasper’s weight shift as he bends down to brush her long white hair to the side and press a kiss to the back of her neck.
“I said I’d take care of you,” he murmurs close to her ear, “So let me.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m just curious… how are you so good at this?” She can’t help the quiet moan that escapes her lips as his fingers dig into her shoulders again.
“Honestly… I’m just guessing what feels good based on the sounds you make.” She can hear his sharp grin in the tone of his voice and it makes her laugh into her pillow. “So just… keep helping me.”
“I think I can do that,” she says, closing her eyes and relaxing into the feeling of his thumbs against her spine as his hands return to trailing down her back.
She breathes in the heady fragrance of jasmine as he continues, the smell of night-blooming flowers wafting from the incense. Her eyes flutter open to watch the ashes slowly gather in the brass dish as the scent washes over her.
Some part of her thinks music might be a nice addition to this experience. Something soft and slow, maybe the crooning ballads of her youth or some acoustic instrumentals. But then her wandering mind focuses in on the soft sounds Jasper makes—the low contented purr, the hum of concentration that vibrates deep in his chest, the occasional rough but quiet laugh in response to one of her own noises of appreciation—and she decides that her record collection could provide no better soundtrack than this.
Warm blood, decent painkillers, sweet incense, and a cute boy—a wonderful, stubborn, attentive, thoughtful, ridiculous boy—rubbing the pain and stress out of her tired muscles. What more could a girl ask for?
Eva’s body melts into the mattress as Jasper’s hands move across her back, his fingers trailing lightly across her bare skin. After her worst night in nearly two months, she feels more relaxed than she has in weeks. She lets go of control and worry and gives in to this—the hazy softness of the drugs, the intoxicating pressure of his hands on her body, and the simple contentment of being close to someone she loves.
After what feels like a self-contained eternity, she starts to realize that Jasper’s hands are moving in a repetitive rhythm. Her brain is accustomed to recognizing patterns, and even in her current altered state, she can feel the path he’s following as he touches the same places over and over again.
“I think you’re starting to repeat yourself,” Eva murmurs, her eyes drifting open as she speaks.
He presses another kiss to the back of her neck and his touch is so unbelievably gentle.
“I’m happy to do this as long as you need,” he whispers, “I don’t mind repeating my work a few times.”
“But what if I want to show you the depths of my gratitude by showering you in kisses?”
“Well…” Jasper lets out a low, growled laugh, “That could be arranged.”
She feels him shift above her, making room for her to roll over beneath him. She turns to face him, taking in his expression—half adoration, half hunger—as he drinks in the sight of her mostly naked form. After a moment, his eyes return to hers and she smiles. She stretches languidly, her movements unhurried as she reaches a hand up to cup his jaw in her palm.
“Hi,” she says. Her body feels this close to floating after all the attention he’s lavished on her.
“Hey.” He smiles down at her, his deadly sharp fangs bared playfully.
“Thank you… for everything.”
“It was no trouble.”
She pulls him down into a slow, lazy kiss, tasting the smile on his lips as he meets her. She presses forward, tracing one of his fangs with her tongue before he bites teasingly at her lower lip in retaliation. She laughs against him and that only encourages him to nip along her jawline before returning to her mouth. All the while, her nails catch at the back of his neck, urging him on as he hovers above her.
When they finally part, he asks, “Need anything else tonight?”
“You’ve already done so much.”
“Really?” Jasper prompts with another grin, “Not gonna ask me to dance with you in the living room? Or read out loud for a couple hours? Or… put my mouth to better use somewhere else?”
“All very enticing offers that I will be taking you up on another night,” Eva answers, biting back a grin mischievous enough to match his.
“I hope you do.” He ducks down to place another quick kiss on her lips before asking, “But really… Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Hold me until dawn?” she asks. All of his suggestions sound wonderful, but right now, her muscles are loose and her mind is at ease and she just wants to be close to him.
“Happy to.”
He moves off the bed to hang his hoodie in the closet and grab her t-shirt from where it was abandoned on the floor. He hands it to her before carefully extinguishing what remains of the incense. Eva pulls her shirt back over her head, untangling her hair from the collar as he settles down beside her. Once they’re both comfortably situated under the covers, he pulls her in close, wrapping his arms around her. She burrows into his chest, relishing the feeling of his hands in her hair as he absently plays with the long white strands. She can hear that familiar growled purr where her ear is pressed against his heart. Jasper places a kiss on the top of her head and she holds him even tighter.
“I love you,” she murmurs into the quiet of their room.
“I love you, too,” he answers before switching off the bedside lamp.
The last ashes of the incense crumble to nothing. The now-empty mug sits untouched on the nightstand. And when the sun begins to rise far outside their haven, Eva drifts off to sleep, safe in Jasper’s arms, with a smile on her face and a much lighter heart.