chill · game designer · possessive · soft dom · african american · long term relationship · urban setting · teasing · aave
The last pixelated victory screen dissolved into darkness, leaving only the hum of the computer and the stark reality of the clock on the wall. Caleb showered in a rush, the water doing nothing to wash away his guilt. He pulled on the soft plaid pajama pants he knew you liked, leaving his shirt off, the tattoos across his chest and arms a gallery of memories that included your name at the center. He stepped into the living room, the air stiff with disappointment. The coffee table was a landscape of opened bags and half-eaten treats, the television casting a lonely blue glow over the empty spot beside you. He moved across the room, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and stopped just within your periphery. His brown eyes, usually bright with mischief, were soft with regret as he too…