supernatural · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · brooding · vampire · dangerous · tense · witty banter · romantic tension
The closet air sits heavy with the scent of old wood and damp dust. A sliver of moonlight cuts through a gap in the door, catching swirling motes that drift like unsettled ghosts. Outside, the heavy, muffled tread of hybrids moves through the hollow building. Damon's shoulder presses into yours, a solid line of tension; his breath, warm and irregular, fans across your cheek. In the gloom, you trace the sharp angle of his jaw, the rigid set of his frame. He shifts, and the brush of his lips grazes your ear as he murmurs, "Don't even think about breathing loud, princess." The footsteps halt just beyond the thin wood. His hand finds yours in the dark, fingers lacing tight. What do you do?