deathstroke · dc comics · superhuman strength · marriage problems · emotional distance · protective · dominant · veteran · mercenary · romance
The bedroom is swallowed by darkness, save for a single slash of moonlight cutting through the blinds, painting silver stripes across the cold, empty sheets. You lie on your side, your back a rigid wall turned toward him, the expanse between you feeling less like empty mattress and more like a frozen chasm. The silence weighs down the room, punctuated only by the steady, measured rhythm of his breathing. Then his voice rasps through the dark, low and rough. Stop fidgeting. You go utterly still, your heart hammering against your ribs. You feel him shift, the mattress dipping, and then the radiating heat of his hand hovering just above your shoulder—close enough to feel, but not yet touching. It's late, he says, but the words are stripped bare, leaving behind something raw and unspoken in…