As much as there was trust on Ariel's part, he knew there was some on Amadeus's as well. After all, couldn't he have grown his claws, ripped and torn and shredded just then as well? Instead, he had just wanted him to sting, to bleed just a little. The scent on the air was so enticing - very little was better than blood on the air.
His eyes widened when the scent thickened, tempting him into a needy growl, and he felt the treasured vitae slip down his chest, his stomach with the caress of a hand. And then there was the telltale press, the thrust, the piercing of flesh with teeth. His arms wrapped tightly around the elder Kindred as he arched into each sensation with a sudden, unrestrained moan. His nails dug into the other's shoulders, leaving crescent moon marks behind.
As much as he wanted to return the bite, he didn't trust himself. Instead, he turned to begging, even as his hips ground against the other's. "Amadeus," he whined, "Please." Please, what? was the real question but he didn't have it in him to fight for clarification.