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“Toaster. Tarts.” Maddox repeated the words as if they were the crudest of curses. An expression of deep offense crossed his features.
“Yeah. It’s like a pastry with a filling. You can put it in the toaster and it comes out hot, and you put like, sweet topping on it…”
The more Will explained, the more disgusted Maddox’s expression became.
“I give you freshly caught Alaskan salmon, and you ask for toaster tarts.”
“Yeah. Can I, uh, get some?”
A shudder went through Maddox, a visible horror. “Toaster tarts. Anything else?”
“Well. Yeah. Snacks?”
“Snacks.”
“You know. Like. Snacks. Snacks!”
“I know,” Maddox sighed. “Your palate needs educating — along with the rest of you.”
Will got the feeling he should apologize, but he never said sorry without being forced to. Sorry felt like submission and weakness, two things he did not entertain unless he was forced to.
“You can take the man out of prison, but I guess it’s harder to get the prison out of the man,” he said instead.
“Perhaps,” Maddox allowed. “You should finish your food and get some sleep.”
There it was, an order which did not pretend not to be one. Eat your dinner.
Will picked up his fork and tried to eat. Besides the order, there was a good reason to consume food. He needed his strength. Whatever Maddox had drained from him would need to be replaced. He felt a little shudder run through him at the memory, something horrified and turned on at the same time. He had been fed from, the same way he was now feeding from the flesh of other creatures.
“Is it weird?”
“Is what weird?” Maddox returned the question indulgently. Will should have known he’d be pedantic.
“Being a vampire.”
“I suppose it is. Most things are strange if you are not used to them,” Mad replied philosophically.
“A vampire,” Will repeated, more to himself than anybody else. “Fucking vampire.”
“In your case, yes,” Maddox smirked. “A fucking vampire.”
Will tried not to blush. Prison-hardened men did not blush.
Maddox put him out of his misery by sweeping the plate away, still half-uneaten. “Bed, I think,” he said. “You will need your rest.”
Will allowed himself to be escorted upstairs. He expected the bedrooms to have the same minimalist, cold aesthetic of the downstairs, but there was a deep gray carpet up there, one which encouraged his feet to sink into it. The walls were still dark and simple, but there were a few more touches of decoration in the form of wainscoting and sconces which added a traditional touch. Will knew what those things were because the gang who ran the television in his corner of the prison had a fascination with the house channel.
"This is your room. You will no doubt find it plain, but you will receive a decorating allowance.”
“Decorating allowance?” Will smirked. “That’s the gayest thing I've heard all day.”
Maddox did not so much as quirk his lips at the joke. Apparently, internalized homophobia did not please his eternal captor.
“You will be rewarded when you please me,” Maddox informed him. “I can be very generous — at least as generous as I am cruel.”
“The room is really nice,” Will said. “Thank you.”
It was really nice.
