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Summary
It's enough to make Robby still, the reminder of exactly why they both were in this position. "Sorry," he murmurs. "No, I'm— however you need to do this. Just— tell me." He swallows down the joke that wants to slip out, cut through some of the tension that's sneaked into the room. "If you prefer femoral, I didn't shave my legs."
Frank's laugh is tired, but genuine. "No, I, uh— I can pass on that one." He wets his lips as he considers, an absent gesture, but Robby can already see the slight point of his canines, longer than his usual flat, straight line of teeth. When his eyes return to Robby's, they're wide and just a little earnest.
***
Langdon's a vampire. Robby doesn't forget that, but it's hard to when the other man's teeth are in his neck.