It was like cookies or popcicles or candy or people. You only liked certain kinds. With Antonio Carriedo it was the same way, only with blood. You see, Antonio Carriedo was a vampire, and he had been for a very long time, but that wasn't to say that blood had lost it's allure to him. It hadn't become a necessary evil as it did to most vampires. He still looked at it as though a distillery-owner would a particularly fine wine, or a candy-maker would a new brand of candy. He still favored certain kinds.
He didn't label them with the ABC's and positive VS negatives like hospitals do. that simply doesn't do the tastes justice. Also: No two people's blood tasted quite the same. It depended on their personality, really, the way their blood tasted. As a direct consequence of him figuring that out, he gets to know people before he feeds off of them. Or if they didn't wish to get to know him, he watched them a bit. If they showed a promising array of emotions or reactions to certain things, he would visit them. If not, he let them be.
Most fell willingly into his arms when he sought them out to feed, being a vampire had that effect on people. It was part of his hunting abilities, that and he released a scent that aroused people when he wished. He never really had to fight for a meal.
That was before he decided Arthur Kirkland would make a lovely dinner.
When he first tried, he was rewarded with a punch in the mouth. The second time, a nostril-full of garlic. The third, he was chased out the front door with a silver crucifix. So much for "Third time's the charm". It wasn't until the eleventh time he'd tried that Arthur relent and allowed him to feed. Only moments in, however, he panicked and shooed him away once more. This happened every time for three years. He'd get just a bit, then he'd be run off. After pouting for a day or so like a jilted lover, he'd be back once more, however.
Through that, they'd developed a kind of hectic companionship. Arthur's attic was converted into a bedroom for the vagabond vampire, and they got along for the most part. They would talk in the early dawn or nightfall, sitting in the comfort of Arthur's homely living room with the thick blinds drawn tightly shut to avoid any sunlight getting in, or prying eyes. He'd learned long ago that Arthur was a deeply private person, which made getting close to him quite the chore, but Antonio, as laid back as he was, he was no quitter, and if posed with a challenge, he would pursue it with a gusto.
Antonio prized himself on being a rather relaxed person. Things didn't really bother him. Arthur's unwillingness to let him feed, however, bothered him. It wasn't like Arthur was scared to become a vampire, that Antonio would be able to understand. He'd explained that Arthur wouldn't be changed unless Antonio wanted to change him before. Arthur also knew that the Spaniard had exceptional control over himself in feeding, having done it so often for so long. Arthur still would have little-to-no part of it, and again: It bothered Antonio.
"Arthur?" The brunette lounged on the gentleman's couch, laying with one leg on the back and his head on the arm rest.
"Yes, Antonio?" He glanced up from the embroidery he was working on, green eyes catching the firelight and casting it back, devilishly bright. He sat in an armchair near the fire in question, due to it being the middle of winter.
"Why won't you let me feed for more than a few seconds, mi amigo. You know I'll bring you no harm." Arthur blinked at him for a moment, unaccustomed to Antonio being so blunt about things, then sighed, setting the embroidery aside.
"We've been over this, I don't want you feeding on me for extended periods of time, Antonio." He chided lightly.
"Why?" A swift counter. Arthur shifted slightly, staring at him. He seemed to consider for a moment, unsure. To the vampire's surprise, a delicate flush covered his cheeks and he adverted his gaze.
"Because when you're feeding," He paused, searching for words. "you start to smell strange... And it affects me." He knew Antonio would know what he meant. The vampire had already told him of his abilities. "I know it's probably out of habit, but it bothers me just the same, to be put in that position."
Antonio blinked at him. He didn't want Antonio feeding off of him for very long because it aroused him. Him. Arthur Kirkland, the single most prudish man the vampire knew. He hadn't even considered it anything like that. It simply didn't seem plausible to the older man, because he didn't honestly think it possible. Now that he considered it, he found the idea undeniably attractive. "Arthur..." He murmured, standing and crossing over to the other. Arthur's gaze flickered over his features nervously and a pink tongue poked out to wet his lips, and Antonio found himself unconsciously following the movement.
Leaning over and pressing his lips firmly against the Brit's, he silenced any questions or protests he may have had before the human had the chance to voice them. He rested his hands on the armrests to either side of the Brit, leaning his weight on them, preventing escape. He kissed the other ravenously, barely noticing when thin fingers ran through his hair and stopped at the base, resting on his neck.
He pulled away and kissed a trail along his jawline, nipping lightly at his earlobe.
"Antonio..." Arthur whispered breathlessly. In his eagerness, the vampire had forgotten that he needed air, where Antonio did not.
"Hush, mi amor, hush..." He purred against the flesh over his pulse point. His lips parted and he felt a familiar burn in his gums as his fangs extended. "Relax." He murmured, burying his fangs into the alabaster pillar of heat.
A mildly spicy liquid exploded over his taste buds, the iron-tinted flavor making him shudder with delight. Arthur was, by far, the most delectable being he'd had the pleasure of feeding on. Arthur's hands tightened their grip on him, not really pulling him away, but not coaxing him forward either. A small moan vibrated the flesh between his lips and he growled lightly in response, one arm snaking around the smaller male's waist to pull him close.
After a few moments, he pulled away, licking the remainder of the blood of of his lips. Arthur's emerald hues followed the movement. He lay against the back of the chair, his hips pulled forward by Antonio and his face flushed. Emerald hues hooded with lust.
Antonio prided himself on not being a hasty individual. He was not one to rush blindly into things without thinking them through, but the breathless way Arthur said his name was all the thinking he needed.
The gentleman wasn't getting away from him in a long while.