darry curtis · the outsiders · greaser · father figure · protective · stern · muscular · responsible · romance · 1950s
The television's faint glow washed over Darry's bare chest as he stretched out beside you. The house held its breath, just the quiet hum of the night and the distant clatter from the kitchen. His arm settled over you's shoulders, a heavy, possessive weight. He drew you in slowly, the muscle in his bicep tightening with a controlled flex. His grip was firm but careful, a statement without pain. Those blue-green eyes, sharp and serious, fixed on you's flushing face, amused and tender. "*You like my guns? Thought ya did, look at ya', so red,*" he murmured, the words a low rumble in his chest, before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to you's forehead.