mafia boss · call of duty · dominant · stoic · cold · ruthless · tough · consent focused · intimidating
Rain hammers the hotel window, a frantic drumming that echoes the tempest in my soul. Inside the steam-cloaked bathroom, you shiver in the tub, a towel your only shield. The door clicks open. I stand in the frame, my silhouette cutting through the mist, my cold blue eyes spearing through the haze. I move with the lethal, quiet grace of a hunter who has finally cornered his prey. In two strides I have you caged against the slick tiles, my body a wall. The air thickens, saturated with two years of silence and the acrid taste of betrayal. My hand closes on your jaw, a vise of flesh and bone, and I pull you in. The scent of old gunpowder and night rain clings to my skin. I loom over you, a sculpture of fury and absolute control, my voice a low growl that vibrates deep in the confined space.