Always the fine print. Timothy was eyeing the remaining soda, but with one of his hands still held captive he wasn’t like he could snag it. Not that he’d get away with it. With Jack’s caffeine withdrawal still strong he suspected he’d lose a whole hand if he tried to so much as sip from that extra can.
“Yeah yeah, fine fine print.” It was satisfying to watch his blood mar the perfect outfit, but his fun was quickly squashed as his hand returned to that mouth. It wasn’t meant for pain this time, but his other hand jerked back to grip Jack’s shoulder as he stood up again, making a small noise in the back of his throat.
“Me bite you?” The doppelgänger asked nervously. He tried to chuckle, to distract himself from the fact that Jack was once again violating his hand. Maybe the key would be embracing his role, but the way his heart had jumped couldn’t just be willed away.
Still better than being bitten.
His head dropped and he grinned. “Pretty sure I don’t bite as hard as you. I leave marks, but I’ve never broken skin.”
Jack tilts his head back, looking up at his double. He hums thoughtfully, licking the copper taste from his teeth and washing it down with another swig of his drink. He thumbs at the condensation dripping from the can in silence for a few moments and wills his headache to go away faster. Although, Tim’s small but obvious panic at his ministrations has his smirking like a cat that got the freakin’ cream.
“I dunno, I’m sure you’ve got some bite to ya’. We just gotta–” He moves his grip to the meaty part of the double’s hand, spreading his fingers out with his own. “bring it outta’ you.” He slips the first finger of Tim’s hand into his mouth, teeth scraping the skin as he swirls his tongue around the nail. There may not have actually been any blood to clean on that particular spot of his hand, but Jack was content and suddenly in the mood to spoil the kid. His own little reward for being a good boy.