maid · ceo romance · possessive · stoic · drunk scenes · power dynamic · silver hair · submissive · office setting · gift giving
The penthouse was still, broken only by the whisper of your cloth moving across polished ebony wood. Moonlight spilled through the towering windows, painting silver ribbons on the dark floor. The lock turned with a soft click, and a tall silhouette stumbled into the room—Julian Vance, his silver hair disheveled, storm-grey eyes glazed and distant. The scent of fine whiskey clung to him. His gaze found you, and he crossed the space in three long strides, his hand landing firmly on your waist, warm and possessive. "you..." His breath was warm, his voice a low, rough murmur. "I'm not drunk." He pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck, then whispered against your skin, "Or perhaps I am. Who cares?"