It wasn’t rejection and that was all Hadrian had asked for. A little piece of hope, a butterfly he could stick in a jar and place on a shelf. An acknowledgement that there was something more. That he wasn’t just another means to an end. That he wasn’t just singing for someone else’s supper. His arms tightened automatically around Angel at the admission and he had to remind himself to be gentle - that the other was fragile to compared to him. “I know you are. I know, baby…I know.” Hadrian said; voice as soft as leaves. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the Nephilim’s cheek - a long, lingering kiss he had meant for the other’s lips but decided against at the last second.
He wouldn’t take. No matter what. He would not take from Angel. Not unless freely given. But even under such circumstances - as Angel was willfully offering up his own blood; Hadrian found himself pausing. The idea wasn’t a bad one but the thought of hurting Angel in that manner was a paralysis all on it’s own. “It’s not about helping or being obligated, Angel.” He said, reaching across the table and pulling the tray bearing the meal he’d prepared over.
“It’s about…I swore to you that I would never hurt you or allow you to be hurt by anyone and I fuckin’ meant it. And…” Hadrian shifted so that Angel could have easier access to the plate in his arms. “…and that includes me. I’m…I’m not like other vampires, I don’t know if you’ve seen me when I’m…changed over but it isn’t a pretty sight. I…I’m not opposed to drinking from you, please don’t think that. It’s not that it’s just…I’m terrified of hurting you…” It felt strange to be so honest but when had liberation ever been a pleasant experience?
Hadrian was better this way though. He knew that. He knew the forthright approach would always be his travelled path. “How about…” His voice became low, a whisper meant only for the other’s ear. “How about you eat and then…” He sighed; “And then we can try? I…I do admit the thought is fuckin’ tantalizing. Drinking from you, having you tremble beneath my hands. Feed you a few drops of my blood, kiss my way down your chest…” Nuzzling into the side of Angel’s neck, Hadrian breathed deep - fighting down the toothsome shark beneath his flesh that begged to be let free.
“I don’t mind trying…but if I hurt you, Angel…” it was as if he could smell blood in the water. “…I’ll starve before I hurt you.”
Sometimes Angel wondered if he’d just snapped and lost it. So many years as a slave could have left him insane at this point. He was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened yet. Was Hadrian his way of explaining all of the evils he had experienced? Maybe the man had truly left two years ago and never returned. He found himself running his finger’s across one of the man’s hands, needing to memorize the lines for when he was sure they would disappear for good.
Angel eyed the food as the other spoke, wanting to ignore it, but knowing Hadrian wasn’t likely to settle until Angel had ate something. So he reached for something simple, something easy on his stomach. He took a bite and swallowed before following the motion to do it again. Eating was almost like breathing to the slave anymore. Just to do it to survive.
...but it isn’t a pretty sight.
Eyes snapped to the man’s face then, a furrow coming across his brow before he could stop it. “You don’t scare me, Hadrian.” He told the other firmly. “Seeing you like that won’t change my idea about you.” And it was said with truth. He’d seen many faces over his years in Krovs, it what’s they did that stood out.
Then the man was seeming to agree to the idea and Angel offered a small smile. “You’ll be gentle...” he told the other, confident in his words. “And if it does hurt... if only for a moment-- I don’t care.” He would never care, not truly. “Because I want to do that for you. I want you to trust yourself around me. I want you to take what I offer because for the first time in a long time I do it as myself and not as a slave.”