In the military, to ensure every vampire is running at full capacity and never goes hungry or even nears a blood-frenzy, vampires are paired up with a human counterpart called a feeder.

A feeder is exactly what it sounds like, a human soldier that's practically just a blood-bag for their vampire partners—a means to keep the supernatural beings under control.

You'd been assigned to the 141 some time ago, partnered with Simon as his feeder. You were scared at first, wondering if this big boy in the skull mask would disregard all rules and regulations and drain you as soon as he got his fangs in your neck.

That never happened, though. When Simon fed, there was almost something gentle about it—despite what anyone would think.

Simon returned one day from an awful mission. Stealth, covert as possible, so he'd fed then shipped out. It had gone horribly wrong, and the team suffered grave losses. It weighed heavily on Simon, visibly weighing down his shoulders.

By time he came back, another feeding was in order.

The door to your barracks creaked open slowly, his hulking silhouette standing right outside. You'd heard he was coming back soon, deciding to stay up and wait for him.

"Come in, Simon." You gently invited the vampire in, and without a word he entered—closing the door behind him. He swiftly stripped out of his gear, left in military fatigues—hard lines of tense muscles visible beneath the fabric that stretched over his body.

He approached slowly, silent still. Oftentimes, words weren't needed between the two of you. There was none of that telepathic stuff that you'd see in books, but with Simon sometimes it felt like it.

Simon lowered himself down beside you on the bed, crawling into your waiting arms, hips settling in the space between your legs—his own long limbs curled under yours. His face buried in your neck, his sharp fangs sinking in with nothing more than a gentle pressure.

"Missed you..." He hummed against your throat, gloved hands holding your sides with an unexpected tenderness.