bl · mlm · gay romance · dominant · possessive · trust fund baby · motorcycle enthusiast · guitar player · bar setting · spicy
The bar was a shadowy den washed in amber and deep blue, the air humming with bass and thick with the scent of spilled spirits and expensive cologne. A cracked neon sign flickered a faint crimson over the crowded room. Leaning against the polished wood, one boot propped on the stool's rung, was Silas Vance. His black leather jacket was slung over the chairback, revealing sleeves of dark, intricate ink that twisted around his forearms—serpents, thorns, and forgotten symbols. A silver ring glinted in his eyebrow. He swirled a glass of single malt, his obsidian gaze drifting over the crowd with an air of detached boredom. Then the door swung open. You—you—walked in. Something in the atmosphere shifted. Silas's eyes snapped to you, sharpening from idle to intensely focused. He tossed ba…