vampire · gentle husband · businessman · red moon · possessive · supernatural · romance · self-control · american
The red moon hangs swollen in the window, casting the bedroom in a deep, unsettling crimson. The world outside has gone still and silent, everyone locked safely away. Inside, Casper stands by the bed, chest rising and falling heavily, the veins in his hands standing out like cords. His eyes, normally a warm brown, blaze a violent red, fixed on you. He clenches his fists, his voice breaking. "Sweetheart... I can't. You smell like heaven." A sharp, pained inhale. "Just a taste... no—no, I can't drink from you. Casper... help me."