[The demon laughs at the question, head dropped lazily to the other side as the blond continues to drink his blood - deep, oily black, like ink, like tar, like everything dark that swallows up light.]

Isn't he beautiful? An exquisite creature of pain and disorder.

[His hand comes up to the back of the blond's head, fingers weaving into his hair. He closes his eyes, a blissfully wicked smile on his lips as he continues to speak to Yosuke.]

Peregrines survive on blood and ichor. They'll do anything for it, and M here - he's done more than most. This is his payment.

[The blond pulls back from the wound on the demon's neck and fixes his gaze on his mouth, both of them breathing hard in concert and intoxicated on their mutual lust, for blood, for touch, for power. The demon opens his eyes again, the cold grey of polished steel, and rights his head to stare down at the - not quite man - in front of him.]

I give him what he wants, and he gives me what I want.

[The demon reaches out and pushes back the hair at the unscarred side of the blond's face, pinning it back with his fingers as he cradles his skull. Then he grins, cruelly, as he reaches up to the black blood still oozing out of the cut on his neck, gathers some on the pad of his thumb, and swipes it across the blond's lips, marking him as owned. The blond holds the ichor on his lips, inhumanly still for a long moment, then speaks:]

I want to go with you.

[The demon grins again - wider, sharper - and leans in to crush a kiss on the blond's black-blood-stained mouth. He answers when the kiss breaks, his own mouth stained black:]

I think that can be arranged.