Not Slayers, though I was thinking of Xellos when I wrote this.
Mulled wine. Deep, sparkling red depths. As if rubies had been shattered and transformed to liquid, before being poured in a crystal chalice. Then slipping and slithering down his throat. Thick and rich and sweet. Like honey. Like blood. He licked his lips and ran his tongue over of rim of the glass, savoring every spice and heat as is settled in his stomach. Mmmm, mulled wine.