Steve is a human donor, making a living by allowing dying vampires to feed from him. Then he meets North, a vampire sun-damaged and terribly scarred but very much alive. As North feeds from Steve they become friends with a strong attraction building.
Once healed, North makes Steve an offer he doesn't want to refuse; let North hunt him through the city before being brought back to North's home to fulfill every fantasy Steve's shared with him.
It's going well until a mugger threatens Steve's life and North intervenes, creating an unbreakable bond between the two of them that threatens to ruin what they'd begun to build.
I knocked on North's door, my gut tight with anticipation. His apartment was on the top floor, and I'd taken the stairs, my dick hardening as I climbed. My neck throbbed, the place North always fed from tingling as I got closer to him -- as if it remembered how his fangs felt.
North could pick up my scent as soon as I entered the building, but he usually made me wait to be let in. Tonight, my knuckles were still touching wood -- the door, not my dick -- when he opened it, then pulled me inside with a thin, strong hand locked around my throat.
It was his way of saying 'hi' I guess.
"You're late, Stephen."
"Steve. And I'm on time by my watch." Which was a cheap piece of crap one step up from a cereal box giveaway, but it did the same job as a Rolex, so who gave a fuck?
North stepped back, frowning as if he expected an apology for being made to wait, not an argument. Licking his boots wasn't included in what passed for a relationship with us, so I didn't give in. I was his blood-whore if you wanted to get crude, his donor according to Ruby, my boss. She ran the Blood Bank with brisk efficiency and refused to admit that selling bodily fluids was on the seedy side, whether it was blood or spunk at stake.
Was that a pun? Maybe even two? Now, they would've rated an apology. Puns suck.