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Driver will only drink from his wrist.
Lars' neck is still just too tender to touch.
He insists Driver's touch doesn't hurt him, not anymore, but Driver knows his darling boy is sensitive, and knows his bites leave sore places when he's finished. Better to spare Lars that discomfort.
Better to take his meals from the wrist.
It's harder to hide them but Lars is often covered anyway. Likes feeling covered by his clothes, comforted by their weight and softness.
The best is when they're close. They figure out that Lars likes the weight of Driver on him when he feeds. They manage with Lars on the couch. Driver in his lap, leaned back against him. "It's like giving the baby a bottle.' Lars says suddenly. as Driver gets comfortable, wrapping one arm gently around Driver's shoulders to ease his head back onto Lars' bicep.
"We don't have to-"
"I know."
Lars shifts Driver gently, but bodily and he's struck yet again by how strong his sweet boy is, under all that softness. With Driver where Lars wants him, Lars offers up his wrist, the sleeve of his sweater already rolled back and safely out of the way. Driver is so meticulous about the blood, and Lars appreciates it.
Driver licks a few times over the skin. There's nothing numbing in his kiss, no magic bullet to take the pain away from his sweetheart, but it makes Lars squirm and his breath go deep and the sweet little “oh-” he breathes out is the least he can do in exchange for the satiation Lars grants him.
He licks his teeth and sets them against Lars’ wrist, fangtips pricking the milk pale flesh. “I can take it.” Lars says, breathing slow and deep, “You can do it. I can take it.”
Sweet boy, Driver thinks, as he savors the warmth of Lars under his lips, I would kill for you.
When he sinks in his fangs, Lars gasps. A sharp breath accompanied Lars’ free hand squeezing Driver's arm where they're resting on his chest, holding Lars' wrist just where he wants it. The bite hurts. But no worse than being touched ever did. And it's fading anyway, Driver closing his lips over the wounds and suckling gently. Lars imagines it's what hickeys feel like. A little pain, the odd sensation of pressure.
It's his favorite part though. Lars rubs Driver's arm gently, nuzzling against his temple as he feeds. He's so unguarded like this, lithe body soft against Lars. Relaxed. And something warm buzzes in Lars' belly. He did this. He made Driver like this. He's giving Driver what he needs. He can take it. A little pain, to have this? Lars smiles against Driver's hair, finding the scent of his own shampoo, from their shared shower.
He's beautiful.
Driver swallows another mouthful.
He always stops just as Lars starts to notice the pull of tiredness at the edge of his awareness. He wonders how Driver knows. If he knows.
When Driver lets up, he lingers with his lips against Lars' skin, giving his body time to stem the bleeding, before he lifts his mouth. Lars has a glimpse of his mouth, lips lined scarlet, his teeth stained with his meal. And as quick as it's seen, Driver is turning his head aside, closing his mouth to swallow a few times, clearing the evidence with his tongue before he turns back to Lars. After feeding, Driver is always a specific sort of soft he never is anywhere else. He lingers against Lars, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his cheek in a featherlight touch.
His hands are so warm like this.
Lars turns his head, presses gently into Driver's palm, nuzzles into the lax curve of his fingers.
“Cuddly,” Driver hums, curling his hand to cup Lars' cheek, using his thumb to brush over his lips. “Wish I could kiss you,” he whispers, blue eyes lingering over soft lips, parting under his thumb.
“You like to brush your teeth first,” Lars reminds him. He wouldn't mind, he thinks, a kiss from this warm, languid Driver. But he knows.
Driver hates to get blood on Lars.
It took a long time for Driver to accept feeding from Lars, just because he hated the idea of hurting him. Their compromise is that Driver gets to make the rules. And one of his rules is that Lars never tastes blood on his tongue.
“But we can stay here, for a little bit,” Lars offers, giving Driver a gentle squeeze, “You can kiss me goodnight after, when we go to bed.”
“You can put the TV on,” Driver tells him, “If you want a distraction.”
“You smell nice,” Lars says instead of answering, nosing into Driver's hair again, “I think- I'm okay here.”
“Okay.” Driver shifts a little, resting more weight into Lars and leaning into the nuzzling. “If I doze off… you can wake me.”
“Okay.” Lars squeezes Driver a little closer, that warmth in his tummy stoked by the sigh Driver breathes against his throat.