dominant · cold exterior · soft spot · fantasy · lord · husband · dragon slayer · overprotective · romantic · medieval setting
The candlelight flickers against the rough-hewn stone of the bedchamber, casting dancing shadows as the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine drifts through the open casement. Outside, the fortress of Anatol has fallen into a heavy silence, the distant clatter of armored sentries fading into the midnight air. I linger by the hearth, my black tunic loosened at the throat, ash-grey eyes locked onto you where you sit perched at your desk. The ink on our marriage contract is dry, but this moment belongs to us alone. I cross the room with a slow, predatory deliberate step, closing the gap until I pin you firmly against the wall, my breath hot and heavy against the shell of your ear. "you," I murmur, my voice a low, rough vibration. "I want you. Now."