She wakes, sometimes. Sometimes if he isn't careful enough feeding from her – if he sucks too hard or not hard enough – her body jerks, she rouses herself. Every now and then her eyes open.

This time, they open when he enters the cabin. "Where am I?" she says thickly.

"We've discussed that, Agatha," he tells her. He does his best to be patient, but it irritates him to hear her this way. In their dreams she is always quick and intelligent. "You're on a ship. With me."

"With you." It's resigned, almost a sigh. She relaxes back into the pillows and stares at the ceiling. "You've been drinking my blood?"

It's not really a question, but he purrs an answer anyway. "Oh, yes."

"For how long?"

"Long. I told you..."

"You're making me last." She says it over him. "I see. It's been days at least. And I've been unconscious. How have I been eating?"

"I've been feeding you by hand." Literally by hand, actually. He's eschewed utensils for this, slipping his fingers into her mouth and letting her suck at him, almost as if she were like him, and it's been erotic. He generously keeps that information to himself.

Her head rolls to the side, and then her eyes narrow as if something on the night table interests her. He can't imagine what. She says: "You're falling in love with me."

That surprises a laugh out of him. "You really are delirious, aren't you," he dismisses, fondly. "Would you like a-"

"You've been feeding me by hand."

Suddenly she doesn't sound delirious; she sounds sharper than he's heard her all trip. He frowns. "I can't very well make you last if you go and starve to death on me, can I."

"You've been brushing my hair."

He follows her gaze, to the hairbrush and the dark wisps that leave no room for denial. So he doesn't deny. "Well I've washed it too," he points out. "You were starting to stink, and I'm afraid it was rather putting me off my appetite."

She rolls her head again and looks back at him, searchingly. Blinks hard against the sun. He sees her eyes flicker up towards the window, to the narrow strip of light that he's allowed into the room, precisely where it would fall on her as she sleeps. He sees her see it.

He swallows. Keeps still. Tries to brace for what she says next – she's caught him out, and she will humiliate him without mercy. It will be worse even than when she taunted him at the convent gates, worse than standing naked and desperate and impotent. You've given me the sunlight as a gift, she will say, And you keep the curtains open so that you can watch me lie in it, despite your envy and your hunger. Of all I've seen from you, the gates included, this is the most pathetic.

But she doesn't do it. "You tucked me in," she points out instead.

She's never shown him any hint of kindness before. You're falling in love with me too, he almost tells her, but he manages to hold it back. "Well, you need your rest." Smug and mocking. He gives a short bow and reaches for the doorknob behind him. "I'll be back for you later, Agatha."

She sighs and her eyes close. "I know you will."

The End?

I sort of think this is the end. At least, I don't currently have any plans to continue. Let me know what you thought!