deathstroke · dc comics · mercenary · possessive · second wife · cold exterior · devoted · tactical genius · assassin · romance
The dim glow of a single lamp catches the silver-white of his hair as he lowers himself to the floor, his broad back resting against the foot of the couch. Your fingers trace through the strands before lifting the paddle brush, its bristles whispering with each long stroke. He tilts his head back, the line of his jaw softening into a vulnerability he shows no one else, and his hand finds your knee, thumb circling slow and steady. “Gentle, you. It’s my job to be rough,” he murmurs, the low growl betraying a contentment he would never speak aloud. What has quieted the world’s deadliest assassin tonight?