-- you don't trust me."

-- you? You were nice enough to give me shelter, but you don't seem all too thrilled about the vampire thing either."

— want to take him now and ravage him, to show him exactly what kind of monster he was.

“Then giving in would make me the monster, wouldn’t it? Letting myself touch you… We’d be playing with fire.”

Lucian’s hands clenched and unclenched with restraint. He’d turned around in his chair to look at Samson directly now, to take in those muscled arms crossed over his chest in defiance.

That headstrong take-no-shit expression annoyed Lucian because it made him want to prove Samson wrong. Made him —

-- He'd have to be on his best behavior here. As hungry as he was, he couldn't let his instincts take over. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin a nice evening with a handsome man.

-- makes you wiser than most. Something like that has to come with some drawbacks."

"They call my kind vampires," he explained. "I have to drink blood to survive."

*Survive* was a loose term. He didn't think he could die from his cravings, but he'd hate to think how much infinitely worse they could get.

"You have an interesting air about you... Feels like you hold a power that --

— got too close. But still you pursue me. Why?”

As strong as he felt from his recent meal, Lucian was weak to Samson’s gaze, so full of cocky defiance and lust. His spiky facade began to crumble.

“I- I dunno, anyone who isn’t a bloodsucking monster?” He meant to speak harshly, but the words came meekly.

“I told you how I’d hurt you if you —

— though it wavered. He spoke frantically as he righted the things he’d knocked askew on the vanity table.

“There are better men to lie with.”

Lucian reacted as if he’d been struck. He gave such a start that he rattled the vanity and toppled over a bottle of perfume.

He prepared for a great many things, but this was not one of them. He hadn’t kissed anyone since…

“I don’t do things like that,” he said, trying to keep his tone sharp —

— stoic, but something in his expression suggested that perhaps it was a genuine question. Was he not doing enough to show Samson how much he valued his assistance?

— my appreciation without…”

He cleared his throat and set the brush down.

“You’re allowed in my castle. That’s a higher honor than most receive. And you’re allowed to sleep in my bed. Do you require more?”

His intense eyes gave Samson a sideways glance over his shoulder. He wanted to appear —

Lucian shifted uncomfortably. If he spoke of how much he truly appreciated Samson for what he was doing, he feared he’d be too tempted to partake again. Couldn’t let himself be too vulnerable, or he’d give in.

“You’re valued far more than I can say. More than you know. I’m… not sure how to show —

— Samson’s. Without the loincloth, there was little else left to the imagination.

Lucian’s cheeks only burned brighter. He felt a little dumb, and staring at Samson like this didn’t help regain his wits.

“I- I thought…”

He cleared his throat. “That’s perfectly fine, Samson. Um, thank you for your service today. You did quite well.”

It was a battle to keep his eyes trained on —

— bed. I can’t have you walking around being a distraction.”

Lucian’s face burned bright red. That was the only article of clothing that Samson was wearing at the moment….

“U- Um, go ahead,” he stammered, quickly trying to remember if he had any extra-extra large pairs of comfortable lounge pants.

He didn’t.

“Just put it back on when you get out of the —

— enjoy the bed.”

Lucian caught his eyes in the mirror again. They were filled with a stern compassion. A look that said *I don’t care how tough you think you are, you will take care of yourself.*