Myron's lip curled up into a sneer, this one with a bit of a bravado as he drawled dismissively, "I'm a rockstar. I have people for that."
Which was true, technically, but they didn't keep a full staff when they were between tours and not actively recording. Of course, the staff had been in touch about Merry, but they weren't doing the day to day, like making sure everyone was eating and not overdosing. They weren't altogether great at that anyway. Rockstars were stubborn and hard to control, and all the Weird Sisters like to do what they pleased mostly.
But he did stuff the lollipops in his pocket and got up to follow her, not bothering to point out that all actions, thoughtful or otherwise, were based in self-interest. That was how Beings--people, vampires, whatever--all operated, out of self-interest. But he was glad that she was a planner, because Myron sure wasn't.
He was eager, though, and when she sat down on the couch, he moved quickly towards her like a predator approaching its prey, head tilted and face painted with his hunger. Instead of sitting next to her, he moved her where he wanted her--laying on the couch on on her back--before nudging one of his legs between hers and kneeling over her as he leaned in.
He didn't bite right away. Yes, he was hungry, but feeding on the blood of another had always been something more than just sustenance to Myron. It was... sensual. An intimate exchange. He let one big, strong hand trail over her body as the other held him up above her, his long dreadlocks falling down around them as he lowered his head to mouth and nip her shoulder through her shirt, then lap his way up the skin of her neck to her jaw and then ear. He nosed around, taking in her scent, enjoying the feeling of her pulsing of her carotid beneath his lips and tongue.
Myron let out a low hum of anticipation before he sunk his fangs into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, purposefully not breaking her carotid so he could drink more leisurely. The only warning before he'd bit had been a slight press of his hips against Lorelai's, a slight tensing of his body above hers. Then he was drinking, and the hum turned into a groan as the red, coppery liquid hit his tongue. As with most, though not every, feeding, Myron felt himself begin to harden and he pressed his hips against hers a little harder with each swallow of her blood.