[He could tell him now that there was no way he could get enough blood from a small prick on his finger to even take the edge off his hunger, but then he would probably rescind his offer.

So instead, he says simply as he takes his hand back in his:]

Of course, my dear, no more than that. You will still have rosiness to your perfect little cheeks when I am finished.

[The fingertip is pressed to his lips again, and he can smell the blood, overwhelming. Savory. Sweet.

With a soft moan he absolutely did not mean to make, he draws the finger into his mouth and the first drop of blood smears on his tongue. He begins to suck gently, urging more drops to come.]