Call it what you want

sam So please please please, let me get what I want this time Remi's stroking along the wall mystified Sam, who had no idea what he was looking for - but the moment of realisation, the way he turned and stared; that he knew all too well for what it was. He could feel the apprehension, the fear. The unshakeable sense that he was a hideous monster crawled up the back of his neck. "I...don't know. I've never, never drunk from somebody. Or at least- not anybody real." The 'Voice' had just been removed enough from a person for him to feel comfortable enough to partake, but he'd regretted it for weeks afterwards. He was sure that hardly measured up to the horror of parting the flesh of a person, tasting hot blood on his tongue. And yet, Sam felt himself compelled by something baser than his thoughts, a need to bite at Remi that was making his fingers twitch. "You shouldn't...should-shouldn't offer anything like that. I could hurt you with it. I-I don't know. I read once some people enjoy it but I don't think I would." He closed his eyes and just for some relief from the sluggishness, the desire, he fantasised: "I would...bite you. A-at your neck or wrist or...wherever you chose. And d-drink. Not to kill you. But just...enough to keep me going. I'm sorry, I know it's wrong and disgusting and terrible."