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Underneath the woodsy smoke and aromas coming off their mingling breath, the scent of Soap's blood smells absolutely divine. They bump into a side table in the entryway when Ghost pins Soap to the wall, torturing himself by tracing a long line up the man's pulsing jugular. He scrapes his teeth gently at the rough underside of Soap's jaw, reveling in the rumbling moan and twitch of hips he gets in return.
"Gonna bite, big thing?" Soap asks, knotting his fingers into the back of Ghost's jacket hood to pull him closer. Ghost slots his own through the belt loops of Soap’s pants.
"Only if you ask nicely."
or;
The worst part of being a vampire is the lack of a reflection.
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this fic has me in a chokehold i NEED a part 2 of this so bad
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