The funny thing about it all was that Ford had done an extensive study of vampires. He knew all the ins and outs. Their reproduction, their feeding habits, their natural habitats, how they transform, the biological structure that differs them so greatly from humans. He knew the difference between a harmless vampire bat and a legitimate vampire and how one went about becoming a vampire. The whole thing.
And people would've called him one just the same.
Just cause he liked blood.
He wasn't a vampire. It was obvious to him he wasn't. But if he hadn't known better, his blood fetish would certainly make him think he was one. Unlike most fetishes heard of, or read about, it wasn't really anything that made him feel attracted, so much as just…actually hungry. Yet he was so picky about it as well that it made the whole thing frustrating and made him feel awkward and worried people would just think he was more of a freak.
He liked seeing blood but it always annoyed him when movies either over killed it with grotesquely gory scenes or there was too little mention of it in whatever books he picked up.
He liked the feel of blood but he had only had that experience through torn up skin, broken noses, and acne. It was a very little bit for him to go on.
He liked tasting blood. Oh the warm, metallic taste of blood. The sweet, sweet, taste in his mouth. Naturally, that is what he loved the most about blood. But it was so rare. He hardly allowed himself to get scratched up, safety precautions and such, and he wasn't about to perform self-harm.
Ford had discovered this passion when he was only a small child. Loosing his baby teeth, his father insisted that he rinsed his mouth on his own, rather than coming to help him. But between the living room and the bathroom, the constant flow of blood had taken over his senses and it was enough to start the whole thing. Now just reading about it in science books made his mouth water. Of course though, it was something he kept well hidden from everyone. It was bad enough being teased for his six-fingers, he didn't need to be called a monster on top of that.
Still what killed Ford nearly every time the topic was mentioned was by how hard it was to feel satisfied with it. It wasn't just tasting it that would do it for him. Not unless he could nurse on it steadily in large mouthfuls and that was practically impossibility. But seeing how poorly it's portrayed only annoyed him and tasting it was too small, too rare. Even if he did have good content, an actually well written vampire story or a good horror movie, it wore out fast like fresh kill and he still wanted more. It wasn't even a sexually frustrating kind of agony. It was just plain annoying and irritating that Ford couldn't feel excited or satisfied.
What really only got to him every time though, truly, was resisting it entirely whenever it was present. Cause when Ford actually found any good content that made him crave the sweet taste of of that life-giving elixir, it felt amazing. An odd mix of hunger pain and yet delightful pleasure, not being able by logical means to have any blood but still craving it so much and wanting it so bad. And no other time made it more clear just how good it felt than when his boyfriend, Fiddleford, had learned about this fetish of his and finally figured out how to tease him perfectly.
His long, thin, pricked fingers, being so delicately draped in single lines of blood, teasing him as Fiddleford held out his hand, just out of reach from his mouth. They curled and flexed, beckoning him to come close and Fidds was grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he watched Ford so clearly want it.
"Isn't it good enough for ya anymore?", Fidds asked so slyly.
Ford whined. His mouth watered. His teeth tingled with itchy anticipation. His breath was slowed, almost sounding laborious. He could practically feel that boney finger in his mouth and how flesh would grind against bone as his dull teeth sank down into it. His stomach would clench suddenly with demanding hunger which almost made him moan as heated "haaa~"s fell from his lips. But still he had to hold back. He couldn't just lunge out and take Fiddleford's blood. His teeth clamped and loosened repeatedly, wanting so badly to bite.
"Ford~", Fiddleford beckoned, bringing his hand up and gently petting Ford's face with the back of it. "I thought you liked the taste of blood."
Ford whimpered, leaning into the touch and following his hand as it pulled away.
"I-I.. I do..", he whined, barely finding his mouth to work without a slight waver to his voice.
"Don't you want a little taste~?", Fiddleford offered, holding out his hand yet again and then smiling. "It's only my life's work~."
Ford's stomach clenched again and he gritted his teeth, practically tasting the blood in his mouth. His stomach actually growled in hunger and Fiddleford threw back his head and laughed. Ford's face flushed as he stared at the floor in embarrassment. It felt so good. He didn't know why, but it did. He squirmed a little in his seat, which only encouraged Fiddleford.
"See, you ARE hungry~", Fidds scooted closer.
Ford shut his eyes tight and trembled. His blush grew even deeper.
"I wanna help you~", Fiddleford promised so sweetly. "Wouldn't you like a drink of wine, darling~?"
"N….Nnn…n-no…", Ford managed to stammer out weakly.
"But Sixer~", Fidds cooed temptingly. He lifted a hand and turned Ford's face around towards his. "You wanna look at this~"
Ford gingerly opened his eyes and then his eyes flew open wide and his jaw dropped at the large cut Fiddleford had over his shoulder. It was steady bleeding, dripping down past his white undershirt tank-top.
"…O-o-ooohhh…", Ford moaned, melting at the sight.
Fidd's hands ran down to Ford's waist and pulled him closer. The smell of blood wafted up and wrapped around his nose however, and he was lost in its promise. Ford felt himself shiver and his stomach clenched again.
"Haa…!", Ford hissed, still fighting the urge.
"Drink it, Stanford..", Fidds commanded in a low voice near Ford's ear, earning another shiver. "Please? I want to help you~ I want to bleed for you~"
Finally giving in, Ford leaned down and wrapped his mouth around the boney shoulder and begin to lick and suck on the skin. He could feel the cut brushing against his tongue and the raw flesh felt so good. The flavor flooded his mouth and it made him moan with both pleasure and hunger as he pulled Fiddleford closer, wrapping himself tightly around Fidd's small frame.
"S-see? You're not a monster..", Fiddleford said gently, encouraging him and running a hand through Ford's hair.
Ford felt those long bony fingers run through his hair, stroking him like one would a kitten, and he craned his neck a little, trying to get closer without moving his mouth away from the cut. Fiddleford couldn't help but chuckle a little at this. Small, hungry noises escaped the back of his throat with every gulp until they turned into longer whines as Ford licked the cut, the blood ceasing its flow and the taste only now lingering on the open flesh.
"What's the matter, sugar?", Fiddleford asked softly. "Whatchoo whinin' for?"
Ford sighed and finally let go. His jaw hurt a little for having clenched so tightly for so long. His face was glowing a warm and bright red with love-struck daze dancing in his eyes. He was panting, a little, and looked so happy.
"..thank you..", he said, his voice breathy.
He leaned forward and touched his forehead with Fiddleford's.
"Thank you so much…", he repeated.
Fiddleford smiled and ran a hand through his hair to cup his cheek.
"It's my pleasure..", Fidds purred.
Ford chuckled a little and then looked back, almost shyly. His eyes fluttered down, not sure of himself.
"..I don't know how you put up with this..", he admitted, sadly. "How you put up with me being like this.. It's.. Weird. It's ridiculous. It's.."
"Stanford..", Fidds said, a touch hurt. "I don't put up with you. I like doing this with you."
Ford shrugged, unbelieving. His mind was a bit of a haze to really give a real comeback or argument.
"Don't you shrug me off, Ford.", Fidds said, keeping his voice low. His other hand came to Ford's other's cheek. The cool hands felt good against his heated face. "I love you.. I just wanna make you happy.. It's weird, sure. It's difficult, yes. But that ain't your fault, hun. And it don't mean that I don't like doin' it either. It… If it makes you happy… I'm happy. Really. No, Stanford, look at me."
Ford hesitated, but slowly looked back at Fiddleford. His soft and vivid blue eyes, shining with so much care and love. Fiddleford's face was so serious and so genuine, Ford found no trace of lie or fear, nervousness, or judgement in him as he spoke.
"I love you.", he said, in as clear and definite a voice as possible. "It ain't even like when you was growin' up. I love you… And I'm happy doin' this with you."
Ford felt his heart touched. He smiled, warm and comforted, and nuzzled into Fiddleford's neck with gentle care and love.
"..I love you too..", he said so softly.
They curled up together for a while. Enjoying the warmth of each other's company. The intimacy of shared love and care. After a long while, Ford finally spoke, breaking the stillness that had settled.
"…Just how did you manage to hurt yourself so badly?", he asked, frowning slightly, as his mind replayed the events.
"Uh… Heh.", Fidds gave a nervous chuckle and adjusted his glasses. "It.. Well it wasn't self-harm. Um… I got hurt this morning, working, and.. Well I didn' think that peroxide would've been good for you to digest. So I just um… Pealed off the scab for ya."
Ford stayed still. He could only imagine Fiddleford's sheepish grin. He closed his eyes. Heaved a sigh and sat up. All the lovey-dovery mush he previously felt disappeared and replaced with protectiveness and slight irritation. He turned to Fidds with a stern look.
"Get your ass in that bathroom and clean it out WELL before I have to perform surgery on an infection.", he ordered.
"Ford, it wasn't gonna-"
"You. Move. Go! Scoot! Beat it! I don't need you dropping dead on me.", he insisted with a small smile, getting up himself.
"Look just cause of that one time with the chicken-", Fidds began again.
"No because of the extensive reading that disease is easily transfered during feeding.", Ford pulled on his boyfriend's hand and Fidds smiled as well and easily complied to following him while Ford continued to complain. "I mean, dammit it, I take you into my home. Make sure no anomalies come and go as they please like you want. And you have to pull a stupid move like that just to-"
"Give you everything you want?", Fidds cut in slyly, delighted to see Ford's face quickly flash red hot in embarrassment.
"…Stop thinking with your dick.", he grumbled half-heartedly.
"Your welcome.", Fidds said with a smug grin.