Jesse’s thumb traces idly Reaper’s lower lip. It’s a slow, methodical left-to-right motion as he stares into Gabriel’s face and gauges his reaction.

The vampire’s cheeks are flushed with the blood McCree had fed him, his breath warm as it ghosts across Jesse’s knuckles.

“That summoner that has given me the herbs sure knows her stuff, hm? Hit you real good. Damn… look how sweet you are for me.”

It only takes a soft press at the joints of his jaw to get Reaper’s mouth to drop open. His eyes are a little glassy but not drugged. He knows what is going on – his usually shitty attitude is simply curbed by the special liquor Jesse has brought him. He wonders if Gabriel has ever managed to get drunk since he turned god-knows-when.

“Damn good stuff,” he mumbles, taking the thermos and lifting it unnecessarily high above Gabriel’s mouth, so he can watch the thick red liquid drip down as he tips the can, splashing messily onto Reaper’s tongue.

He groans, a simple thumb hooked behind his bottom teeth keeping his mouth open. Jesse can see his throat work as he swallows the spiked blood down.

Jesse sits the thermos down on the ground carefully, then inspects Reaper’s teeth. His fingertips slide along the edges; canines razor sharp and long. He’d have no problem biting off Jesse’s fingers – or ripping out his jugular for that matter – but he’s warm and content half-lying on the ground and letting his teeth get inspected and played with.

When Jesse drags a thumb across his tongue, Gabriel obligingly stretches it out, letting it loll like a dog. His flush has crept across the bridge of his nose now, the blood having worked its way completely into his system.

Usually there was more of a fight whenever they clashed, but Jesse is more than willing to let it slide this time in favor of this lazy contentment.

“That’s it,” he mumbles, free hand starting to work at his belt. “Keep like that. Nice and open. Got a nice big treat for ya coming right up.”