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Sebek shakes his head.
"Not your neck."
"Then..."
Sebek's cheeks tint pink. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to put my fangs near somewhere so precious when I'm still unused to them."
How Silver's pulse jumps when he hears those words, delicate and restrained.
He's not the one Sebek is calling precious. He knows that. His traitorous heart doesn't.
Sebek walks towards where Silver sits on his bed, and Silver shuffles back to make space.
Sebek kneels at his feet, his ungelled hair falling across his face.
He takes Silver's hand in his ever so gently, folding his sleeve back and pushing it up to the elbow, his heat leaving goosebumps up his arm, searing straight into flesh.
"Would you mind?" He murmurs, faint breath brushing against the pale and thin skin of his wrist. "If I drank from here?"
Silver swallows, his pulse about to leap between Sebek's pink lips. "Go ahead."
Sebek slides their hands together, interlocking them, the heat from his palm so entirely pressed to his sending a shiver down his spine.
Sebek lowers his mouth, first to press a reverent kiss to the skin, and then lick a warm stripe across his pulse, sucking gently.
He hasn't even broken the skin and Silver's breath hitches.
Sebek glances up at him through his fringe, hums a soft sound against his pulse. "You're okay," he murmurs, pressing another closed mouth kiss to the skin.
It's impossible not to feel cradled like this. The way Sebek holds his hand, hand soft despite his calluses, breath ghosting over his pulse, each heartbeat leaping to meet him, the pull of the tide to the moon.
He feels adored like this.
Sebek opens his mouth, a soft sound following the part of his lips, and he presses his tongue against his pulse. It's soft and slick, spongy and firm at the same time.
His fangs sink in with twin pricks.
He doesn't gasp, but his breath hitches in his chest, his blood thrumming as it's gently drawn into Sebek's mouth.
His first suck feels nothing short of heavenly. The sensation fills him from somewhere deep in his chest, as if Sebek's teeth are lodged in his heart and not his wrist. It fills him with a sort of heady warmth that should feel forbidden, intoxicating from the first pull.
The second pulls a shiver from his body with it, Sebek squeezing their joined hands in comfort.
Sebek contents himself to lick at the wound, licking up the blood that leaks. Each slow draw of his tongue feels sensuous, like he can feel it flick through the delicate tendons of his wrist.
It's so warm in the heat of his mouth, the wetness of his blood and Sebek's saliva mixing together, the soft clutch of his hand in Sebek's, Sebek rubbing soft circles into his skin.
It's so tender he wants to cry.
His heat settles deep in his body, a sort of curdling warmth in his gut. He knows for a fact he likes this too much, likes this in ways he shouldn't.
It feels like too much and not enough at the same time, the sensation of Sebek placidly licking somehow completely overwhelming, yet he wishes the plushness of those lips were pressed to his neck instead.
He wants to be held entirely close and dear, not just his hand cradled in his, but all of him, held precious as Sebek drinks his fill from wherever he'd like. He'd give all of himself to him if only he'd ask.
Only his forearm is exposed, but it somehow feels like all of him is stripped bare and yet far too clothed. It feels like Sebek's teeth are buried somewhere far too intimate and close than the veins of his arm, instead deep in his chest where it makes it hard to breathe.
He wants to unbutton his shirt, the rest of his skin aching and desperate to get even a little bit closer to that sucking mouth, to experience even a little of that care and consideration.
He shudders with the warmth of his own fantasy, of what it would be like to have those warm, broad palms across his chest.
Sebek's fangs jolt slightly where they press into his wrist.
He retracts his mouth, the sliver of white teeth obscured with fresh red. He presses a promising kiss to his bleeding pulse, smearing a bloody kiss against the fresh wound.
His lips are still pink, but the inside of his lower lip is stained red, flesh coloured and enticing.
Silver wonders it would be like to taste himself from Sebek's lips. To have Sebek press that blood-filled mouth to his own lips, his own blood fed back into his mouth. It would drip between them, fresh blood still slick and overflowing, and Sebek would lick up every precocious drop, both lips stained red with their union.
Silver wants to redden those lips himself, not artificially with his blood smeared across them, but with his own teeth in his lips, biting until Sebek's lips flush with his own blood under the surface.
He wants to look into those golden green eyes directly and not be scared of what he might find.
Sebek licks his lips, mopping up the last of the red liquid.
"Thank you," he murmurs, pressing another lingering kiss to his wrist where blood still beads.
He pulls out two little things from his pocket - an antiseptic wipe and plaster that Silver doesn't recognise from the first aid box.
Sebek wipes his wrist down, all while never letting go of him more than he needs to. The wound hardly feels of anything, no pain or throbbing, just the pain of distance from the man he loves so much.
The wipe is far too cool, wiping away every warm touch from his skin with care.
His fingers skate delicately against his skin as he presses the plaster down, thumb smoothing over the skin tone plaster with gentility.
"There we are," he says, still hushed, speaking more to his skin than him. It unsettles him how quiet Sebek is speaking, makes the thing in his chest feels even more fragile with it. Like they're wrapped up in the bubble of the two of them, and the moment he speaks at his normal volume again it will pop, and Silver doesn't know where that will leave him.
Sebek pulls his sleeve down, comes forward to face him. Tucks his fringe behind his ear to see him clearer, and it slips back out the moment after. Silver's fingers twitch with the urge to tuck it back.
"You're alright?"
Sebek has no such qualms about the same, tucking Silver's hair behind his ear, warm fingers brushing his cheek.
"I didn't take a lot, but just to be safe. Tell me if you feel dizzy or lightheaded, or any pain or discomfort."
He drops his eyes from his to where he tenderly strokes his cheek.
"Your cheeks seem flushed healthily enough."
Silver can't bring himself to tell him that his symptoms are probably less from blood loss and more to do with something else.
"I'm -" Silver's voice makes a croaky sound and he grimaces internally. "I'm okay."
"Okay," Sebek acquiesces, and stands back up. Silver immediately regrets saying anything at all.
"But still," Sebek says. "If anything feels wrong, please tell me."
His eyes glint with concern, pretty mouth down turned. "I'd hate to hurt you."
Silver doesn't tell him how much his heart aches.
"Okay," he says again, because that seems like the only thing he's capable of saying at this point.
"You should go to bed," he tells him.
"Okay."
"Goodnight, Silver."
Sebek leaves the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.
He leaves before Silver can say goodnight, Sebek.