Kieran made a keening sound in the back of his throat. The wound on his neck stung, reminding the quiet voice of reason in his head that this was a shitty idea. It was a shitty, ill-advised idea and it could probably get him killed if - well, Kieran didn't know what could tip vampires over into violence. Which probably meant this was a worse idea. He rolled his hips forward to press himself against Yousef, a clumsy motion that spilled out of the gaping need seeping from his chest. He balled his fists in the cloth of Yousef's shirt, having decided to smother that voice of reason.

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