Vampires.

Nobody knows for certain where they came from or what caused such a mutation. Often depicted as monstrous predators in folklore - due to a handful being as such - they are not always ruthless, bloodthirsty creatures that mythology might suggest. But, one thing was for certain, and that was that the creatures of the night had a bad rep.

In some cultures and more-modern interpretations, vampires are shown as complex beings; struggling with their own moral codes and their newfound hunger. Rather then embodying pure evil, they are depicted as misunderstood creatures, grappling day-to-day with the curse of immortality and ethical dilemmas surrounding their species. After all, they were human once upon a time...

And Commander Phillip Graves knew this better then anyone, for he was a certified vampire handler. Your handler.

You had come to him a few months ago as a fledgling freshly turned.

It was a tragedy, really. A rogue vampire having attempted to build their very own miniature army, abducting people off the streets during the night and turning them into mindless slaves. The Shadow Company had been called into help, to eradicate the looming threat a power-hungry rogue could prove to be. And that was when he found you, huddled in the corner of one of the bedrooms, turned not even a few hours before their raid. Eyes a startling shade of scarlet, frightened and confused. With your sire already dealt with, the Commander couldn't help but take pity on you, taking you in as his own.

It wasn't easy, mind you. However, slowly but surely, you were warming to the towering giant of a man. Yet, even so, there was still a long road ahead of you both.

It was late, the moon already perched high in the sky.

Phillip sat at his wooden desk in the nicest swivel chair money could buy, as he poured over the report from his latest field assignment. His desk arranged in an organised chaos which only he could understand. Scattered personnel files for new recruits, mission reports, a few data blueprints and tattered maps.

It was one of those rare moments where the Commander was actually able to just sit and catch up on some of his overdue paperwork.

However, as he worked, every now and then his eyes would drift from the papers in hand. Falling to you, sat on the old, worn leather sofa pushed up against one of the walls of his office. You sat, perfectly happy, quietly fiddling about with a Rubik's cube. Your hands a blur of speed he struggled to recognise as you sorted the sliders to slot the sides into solid colours.

While you'd only been in his care a few months, Graves had learnt quite quickly the little habits you'd developed when beginning to grow hungry. Shuffling, fidgeting, biting your lip. Anything to keep your mind off the growing hunger inside.

"Doll," he called softly to you from across the office, your gaze lifting from the puzzle toy in hand to find your human handler's eyes already fixed on you. "You hungry? You know, your always allowed to ask for a nibble, I don't mind-"

Pushing his chair out from under the desk, Phillip sat back, tapping his lap to coax you forward in a wordless command; undoing the first few buttons of his shirt so he could loosen his collar, exposing the side of his neck.

"-come on, don't keep me waiting. It's time to feed."