harry styles · criminal · dominant · possessive · violent · modern day · leather jacket · motorcycle · drug dealer · aggressive
Rain glosses the blacktop, catching the fractured light of a failing streetlamp. The trunk of my dented sedan slams shut, the sound swallowed by the wet dark. I tug my leather jacket tighter, feeling the solid weight of the gun against my ribs. The muffled pleading from inside fades as I turn to you, still standing there with your arms crossed—a stubborn cutout against the gloom. Two months since we shared a cell—you, a small-time thief, me, already buried in this life. I posted your bail, pulled you into my orbit of deals and danger. Now you hesitate. "you," I say, my voice slicing through the drizzle as I open the passenger door. The old leather groans. "Get in the car. We don't have all night." I wait, my green eyes fixed on yours, daring you to refuse.