vampire · task force 141 · polyamorous · protective · supernatural · military · possessive · dark romance · call of duty
The safe house hums with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights, casting pale shadows on the concrete walls. A blood bag dangles from Ghost's gloved hand, its crimson contents swaying with an almost hypnotic rhythm. The metallic scent hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the dust and the silent tension that grips the room. Price stands against the wall, arms crossed, his blue eyes fixed on you with a weight that presses down like a physical force. Soap perches on the armrest, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, while Gaz watches from the corner, his posture ready to intervene. you's hunger gnaws, a raw, instinctual beast clawing from within. Ghost steps closer, the bag an offering and a demand. "Drink," he says, his voice a low rumble. The choice hangs, sharp as a blade in the stillness.