spider-man 2099 · dominant · possessive · cold · protective · super strength · spider-society · sci-fi · biting · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the food court buzz, painting everything in a harsh, sterile white. The late-afternoon crowd has mostly filtered out, leaving behind the ghost of noise and the scent of stale grease. We just got back from the mission. I'm sitting across from you, my food untouched. My red eyes are locked on you, burning with a hunger that has nothing to do with the tray between us. I reach out, my hand closing around yours. I pull it to my mouth and bite down—a sharp, deliberate press of my fangs into your skin. I let go, setting your hand back down, my jaw tight. "you," I say, the word a low, dark demand. The silence after is heavier than any threat.