There was only three things the other man could possibly want to talk about. Phin. His sister. Or getting blood. And from the light gleam of sweat on his skin, Ryah thought he knew which topic it was. Never in a million years would he have believed he would be in such a position, freely offering up a vein to a vampire. Drake wasn't looking so hot, his skin even more pale than usual, which for him, was a feat.<br/><br/>Ryah swallowed hard, trying to control his pulse, his breathing, glad he was at least dressed in loose pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He vaguely recalled Drake's mouth on him, his tongue on his skin, his reaction to the vampire, how good it had felt, how he had wanted to-to...  "Did you need to...?" He couldn't even finish his sentence, though he knew Drake got it, especially after he pulled a wicked sharp knife from his drawer. "Wrist is okay, right?" Ryah asked, unable to quite meet his gaze.<br/><br/>He needed it to hurt, needed it to not feel good. Because the last time.... His reaction had been embarrassing. He had wanted--wanted the unthinkable.