Chapter 26
Peter would not be able to invoice Michael and Corvin for the ruination of another shirt given that this one now had Theodore’s snot and tears all over it. Still, all things considered, the day had gone…okay-ish?
Theodore was incredibly pale and looked entirely bedraggled when he finally agreed to sit down at the kitchen table and have food and hot chocolate. His eyes, red and swollen, kept drifting, and his thick black hair stood up every which way.
If only that vampire were still alive, I’d kill him all over again.
Peter carefully sliced up the tomato for Theodore’s sandwich, doing his best to not bare his teeth at the vegetable that was secretly a berry. Vile, in a way, pretending to be one thing while being another. Like that vampire who’d pretended to be good and been evil.
Peter was hoping for some nice pro bono work to come his way very soon; something like the pup.
He had a general sense that he might even seek out a few such pro bono cases.
He made a mental note to visit a police station and find some reports about domestic violence or the like that had ended with the police not doing anything.
But that was not the point. The point was getting the tomato sliced and arranged on the rye bread. With absolute focus, Peter managed it, adding cucumber and all the other fixings he knew Theodore liked, then took it over to him with a glass of water and sat in the chair next to his beloved.
“Hmm. I didn’t even ask if you’d prefer the hot chocolate first.”
Theodore shrugged and drank half the water in one go. “Thank you.”
Peter placed a palm on Theodore’s back. “What are you thinking?”
Theodore shrugged again. “Brain’s kind of tired.”
“Understandable. Start on the food, and I’ll get the chocolate melted. Then I’ll take you to bed.”
Theodore shook his head at that, all while pulling a tomato slice from Peter’s precise assemblage.
“I don’t want to sleep. Can we watch something?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t ask me to pick.”
“Not a problem.”
Theodore looked up from the sandwich. His expression was a mess of emotions—anger, annoyance. Fear too. Plenty of fear. Also shame. He said nothing though.
Peter allowed his touch on Theodore’s back to linger. I am to blame for this too. I should have realized he’d need his independence more than what he is entitled to as my beloved.
Yet, the thing about Theodore was that he seemed independent almost by default.
He was wild, like fire melting glass into the most stunning shapes, and Peter loved that about him, even loved, to a degree, that the only way to make him not venture into Faerie with him would have been to tie him down.
If I’d paid more attention and thought about how he would feel instead of worrying about the cook, I’d never have had to worry about Carl-Conrad or Carl-Conrad’s couch. The shame is mine. He shouldn’t have had to hurt.
“Don’t hang up on me again, okay? Like that. Like, when I know something isn’t right, but you don’t seem to care. Don’t do that again.”
Peter nodded. “I swear it.”
“Put it in the contract.”
He nodded again. “I will.”
“Now.”
Peter couldn’t help himself. He smiled. “As you say. I’ll make the chocolate after. It’ll take only a few minutes. Anything else you’d like added?”
Theodore almost started shaking his head, then stopped, looked at Peter, looked away. His cheeks flushed.
“I don’t want to be left behind. When you go do dangerous stuff and might need my blood. I want that in there too.”
Peter knew he should argue against that, but there was a firm set to Theodore’s jaw that Peter had come to learn meant there was no arguing with him, or if there was to be arguing, there was no winning the argument. Peter decided to not even try.
“All right, I will add that too. That’s all you want?”
Theodore narrowed his eyes. His jaw worked. Then he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” Peter circled his thumb around the gentle peak of one of Theodore’s vertebrae, and decided to be daring, almost as if this were a negotiation to ransom the highest of high chieftains. “I love you, Theodore.”
He stood and went to his office to do as he’d been bid by his beloved.
He felt cautiously hopeful. No, this was not the proper handfasting he wanted.
Peter grimaced in front of his screen when he realized he might never get it, or at least, not for a while.
Theodore clearly needed things done at his pace.
And I should have known that. I should have sensed his pace so much better than I did.
He amended the contract and printed the relevant pages, reading them over once more before taking them and one of his fancier fountain pens back to the kitchen for Theodore to sign.
Theodore had picked at his food. Literally.
Peter had cut the bread diagonally, and one of the triangles had been taken apart much like Peter should have taken Bernard apart.
Theodore had gone for the cucumbers and tomatoes first and was now making his way through the lettuce and pickles, daintily stuffing one leafy segment into his mouth as Peter watched.
“Here it is.”
Peter sat back down again, placing the fountain pen and the contract next to Theodore’s plate, who set to reading while chewing on his lettuce and picking up one side of the bread to nibble on. Some crumbs hit the pristine white paper.
“Okay. Looks good.”
Theodore wiped his hands on the napkin Peter had served him along with the food. The way he’d eaten, that barely did anything, but where Theodore was concerned, Peter was well beyond caring about such things as stains and snot. No human mess Theodore made would ever unsettle Peter.
“Excellent.”
Peter went to refill Theodore’s water, then started on the chocolate. All the while, he could feel Theodore’s eyes on him. It was an odd intensity, but there was nothing Peter wanted to hide from the man he loved, and he was more than happy to let him see that.
He went about preparing the sweet treat as if it were the eve of battle and the grater he used to get the chocolate shavings ready a whetstone he ran over the edge of his sword.
When he eventually poured the frothy mixture and turned back around, he found Theodore had finished the half of the sandwich he hadn’t disassembled while leaving the picked-over pieces on the plate.
Peter held up the cup. “Want to have this downstairs?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Theodore was slow enough to push his chair back that Peter got to him in time to offer his hand.
Theodore hesitated for a moment, but took it and let himself be led downstairs.
Theodore’s hand felt warm in his, and Peter knew it was his hunger that made it so.
As soon as Theodore had sat down and taken the chocolate, Peter turned on the radiator.
Instead of choosing one of the movies they hadn’t yet watched together, he picked a documentary about Alexander the Great. He didn’t think it would matter much, and hoped that Theodore would fall asleep before long.
Theodore made no comment, just sipped his hot chocolate, sitting unusually stiffly with both feet on the ground instead of with his legs pulled up and cuddled close, as had become his normal.
Once his cup was empty, he placed it on the ground.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter watched Theodore lick his lips and turn toward him.
Theodore didn’t move fast, although that was because he was tired and human, not for lack of effort. He straddled Peter with what speed he could muster, and with his knees on either side of Peter’s body, his hands on Peter’s shoulders, he glared down, forcing Peter to look up.
“Why do you have to be so fucking noble?” he asked.
“I’m not that noble.”
“You piss me off with how noble you are.”
Peter’s hands twitched. He wanted to hold Theodore close, touch every inch of him. He didn’t.
“That’s very unintentional.”
“Being noble or pissing me off? Don’t answer that. Are you waiting for me to pass out with exhaustion so you can go out and ask Celeste for someone else you can drink?”
Peter’s brows went up. “No.”
“You put on a fucking documentary to put me to sleep.”
“You have never once complained about documentaries. You mentioned you enjoy those that are well made.”
Theodore’s fingers curled against Peter’s shoulders. “You’re going to bite me now, and then you’re going to drink my blood. It’s in the fucking contract you lied about, the one you just happily amended, and you’re now going to deal with the consequences of your continued lie.”
If Peter could’ve loved Theodore any more than he already did, he would have done so now. There was nothing to argue about, there was nothing he could do in this moment without truly giving offense and belittling his beloved.
More than that, Peter didn’t want to argue. He wanted to keep Theodore safe and let him know he was cherished every day of his life. He put a hand on Theodore’s back, cupping his neck with the other.
“Lean forward.”
Theodore turned from demanding to surprised. Once that had passed, he leaned in, his arms wrapping around Peter’s neck much more tightly than normal, as if he needed the nearness, the touch. As if he needed to hold on. Then Theodore relaxed, waiting and ready.
Peter kissed the soft skin on Theodore’s neck before biting down. There was the smallest of gasps in response to his teeth before Theodore went utterly soft and pliable against him.
Peter let the warm blood flow into his mouth, lapping at the wounds.
Theodore shivered, either as an aftereffect of the bite or as a result of being this close.
Soon enough, he would feel and succumb to the pleasure Peter’s teeth always brought him, and Peter wondered if Theodore had been wanting that more than anything else—the sense of forgetting while being overpowered by the bite.
That didn’t matter, not now that he had asked and meant it, not now that he had invoked a bogus contract when the fear of Peter going elsewhere for blood had gnawed at his thoughts.
He’s jealous after all, just not in the way I thought.
Peter let out a groan of his own, the very thought of Theodore being that demanding of his attention arousing him.
Theodore felt that arousal. At least, Peter suspected that was why he started rubbing up against him, a different tension now running through him.
Peter’s hold tightened so that he could remain in control and make sure Theodore didn’t hurt himself.
After a few more mouthfuls of blood, Peter bit his own tongue and licked over Theodore’s wounds so that they’d close.
He waited for that to happen, then took his time lapping up every drop before he lifted his head, relaxing his hold somewhat.
Theodore took the opening. With heavy-lidded eyes, he grasped aimlessly at Peter’s clothing, moving his hips to get what friction he could, then hunted for Peter’s mouth.
Peter let him have his lips, allowed the eagerness of Theodore’s kiss.
He was uncoordinated due to the bite, but still skilled enough that it showed, that Peter could feel it in the way his bottom lip was sucked and then nibbled on.
After a few minutes of that, Peter gathered Theodore in his arms and stood.
“I think I should get you to bed.”
“Yeah…” Theodore’s voice drifted off on a whimper when he couldn’t get the buttons on Peter’s shirt open.
Peter let him try. By the time he’d made it up the stairs and to their room, Theodore’s energy had run out, at least as far as undressing went, and all he was doing was pressing his body against Peter’s, the warmth of him a lure similar to Peter’s own bite.
Once Peter had them both undressed, he climbed into bed where Theodore was turning restlessly, fingers grasping.
He stilled when he could hold on to Peter and curl against him.
Peter dozed off too, but not before breathing deep of Theodore’s smell, tangling their legs, and whispering a dozen I-love-yous into his beloved’s ear.