vampire!kalim drabble :3 i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this (you wouldn't believe)
Kalim’s hands are cold — terrifyingly cold — and every nerve in your body screams at you to pull away. You’ve never felt fear like this before; it crawls under your skin, sinking into your bones. The ghost of his touch lingers, leaving tingles that are both electric and painful, like fire racing along ice.
The shadows of the moon cast a silver gleam across his sharp features, making his grin seem almost predatory. The tip of his fangs grazes the shell of your ears, and jolts of shock shoot down your spine. You flinch instinctively, your breath catching in your throat.
“Kalim—” Your voice comes out thinner than you expect.
“I know,” he says quietly, immediately softer, as if he heard the fear in your breath before you even named it. He doesn’t let go, but his grip loosens, fingers hovering instead of holding. “Do you trust me?”
Your heart stutters. “I’m trying.”
“I just…” He exhales, slow and controlled, like he’s reining himself in. “You smell like sunlight. It makes it hard to think.”
His hand lifts, hesitates, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is fleeting — but it sends a shock through you all the same. He leans in before you can process it, his mouth near your ear, close enough that you feel his breath ghost across your skin.
His thumb brushes over your wrist, a grounding touch despite the cold. You can feel how carefully he’s holding himself back; how every breath is measured, every movement deliberate.
“I’ve gone centuries without this,” he admits quietly, almost chuckling to himself. “Ahaha… and then you show up, all warm and light, and suddenly self-control feels like a cruel joke.”
He shifts, just slightly, and his mouth hovers near your skin again. You tense on instinct, but he pauses the moment he feels it.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”
When you do, his expression has changed. The grin is gone, replaced by something earnest, almost vulnerable. The hunger is still there, flickering behind his eyes — but it’s tempered by restraint.
“I won’t cross a line you don’t let me,” he says. “Not tonight, not ever.”
His breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in again, unhurried this time, as if deliberately giving you the chance to pull away. You don’t. The faint brush of his nose slips through your hair, and his lips hover at your neck; close enough that the chill of his breath seeps into your skin, drawing a helpless shiver from you.
