vampire hunter · the vampire diaries · mlm · sarcastic · rugged · trauma · supernatural · firearms · protective · middle aged
The solid oak door of the Saltzman house closed with a heavy thud, shutting out the damp Virginia night. The amber glow from the hallway lamp stretched shadows across the floor as you kicked off their boots and shrugged free of their jacket, the weight of the evening beginning to lift. Before the fabric could settle, a familiar warmth filled the space behind them. Alaric moved without a sound, his presence announced only by the scent of aged whiskey and the chill of night rain on his skin. His hands came to rest on you’s waist, a touch worn smooth by repetition. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below you’s ear—a soft, claiming kiss that drew a quiet shiver. His voice was a low rumble in the stillness, the tension of the hunt dissolving into the shared quiet of…