Page 40 of Isaiah and Jameson

“Sweet boy.” He was silly for his lover.

“Not a boy.” Isaiah yawned deep.

“My boy.” He could insist.

“Yours,” Isaiah agreed. “God, I’m tired.”

“You need food.”

“No. I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are. You don’t want to be, but you are.” Isaiah had this thing about blood. He didn’t understand, but he would. Now, he needed to feed his boy. “Diego? Are you within hearing range?”

“Always.”

“Great. Your master is starving.”

“I’m on my way.” Diego appeared only moments later with a hefty goblet.

“Thank you. I’ll holler if I need another.” He kept Isaiah close, refusing to act ashamed.

“Anything you need.” Diego nodded and left them.

“Drink, baby.”

“But.”

“Drink, baby.” He tilted the glass, forcing the issue, and Isaiah groaned and drank deep.

That’s it, my love. You need to stay strong.

Your love.The words rang out filling their bond.

He nodded, watching his boy eat. Isaiah needed the blood. Just because there was no one in the family Jameson thought could make a coup didn’t mean there wasn’t someone who would try.

Isaiah groaned, cock filling with the food, with need.

“There you are. Oh my gorgeous boy.”

Isaiah offered him the goblet, and he took a long drag, but he’d fed from his boy. He was buzzing.

Jameson pressed the cup back to Isaiah’s lips, wanting him to finish the draught. This was his to care for now.

Finish it, sweet boy, and I’ll make you shoot again.

Isaiah’s whole body yearned toward him, undulating. “Promise?”

“You have my word.”

Isaiah took the goblet and drank deep. Now he knew exactly the incentive his boy needed to feed.

His boy craved sensation. Craved him. That he could work with. Hopefully for the rest of his long life.

Our life.

“What?”

Our long life.