Owen stared at Vincent, digesting the words and trying to align himself with the notion of being in a sexually-charged situation and not getting turned on. He simply couldn't. It would take being six hundred, he thought, for that to happen. It only made him wonder more about this biting effect and how people became addicted to it; it was that good? He pondered trying it and, looking at Vincent, knew he wouldn't want to, with him. He wouldn't want someone so hard to impress, impossible to shift, who wasn't willing to follow through if he was aroused, who didn't give two shits that he wanted... something (plus, it was Vincent).
The scary thing was, he wouldn't want much more than he'd experienced with Steve and how was he to specify that sort of restriction on a vampire? Steve had been bad enough, no way could he keep himself to himself if he didn't like it, not with a vampire. Besides, he'd look like some childish idiot who didn't know what he was doing (because he didn't) and that would just be embarrassing. It was like cold water on a paper cut; it stung but it helped him realise the error of his ways. He wasn't ready to dabble in this world of sexy vampire biting yet. He needed more experience in the real world, to play with warm blooded boys and some girls, too, so he could decide what he liked with people and in situations he had some control over.
Oddly, though he felt this holiday had changed him and taught him so much about himself and his relationship with Vincent and with understanding sexuality and even vampires, it had also made it clear just how little he knew, too. It was strange, this paradox that he felt so grown up yet so innocent at the same time. He was excited, though, to go back home and attack his life with this new perspective, to head into his senior year of schooling wide-eyed and open to adventure because it seemed he'd been living in such a small box up until now. A very comfortable, well-protected box guarded by Vincent and his mother. But no more. He'd experienced a bit of hurt, shed some tears and he'd learned from it, just as he'd always been told was supposed to happen. Mistakes were learning experiences that taught you how to be more, do better, but it'd all just been theory up until now. He was ready to start trying, to swim and do weights to improve his body, to ask people out on dates and improve his seduction skills, to seek out what made him feel good and happy and do it as regularly as he was able, even if it meant skipping things he should be doing.
He was ready to start making mistakes.
