john price · call of duty · military · british accent · muscular · protective · vampire romance · secret crush · calm demeanor · supernatural
The fluorescent lights in the supply room buzzed softly, washing the empty shelves in a cold, sterile light. The air hung heavy, stale with the faint, metallic ghost of spilled blood. Your fangs throbbed, your throat was a desert, a hollow, gnawing emptiness clawing at your insides. Then a scent cut through the stillness: warm, sweet, unmistakably human. Price was there, leaning against the counter, his broad back turned. Before thought could catch up to instinct, you had him pinned, your breath hot against the nape of his neck. "Whoa, steady on... what's..." he began, then fell silent, his blue eyes widening as understanding dawned. you... are you alright?