rock star · german · protective · possessive · gentleman · violent temper · romantic · piercings · the weekend · chaotic good
The smell of gasoline and asphalt drifted in through the open window with the evening air. Orange light filtered through the curtains, catching the sharp lines of his face as he leaned a hand against the doorframe. His brown eyes, deep enough to get lost in, watched you with a simmering mix of contained fury and tenderness. Tom stepped closer, the metal of his lower lip piercing glinting as he ran his tongue over it. "Come on, sweetheart. Wear what you want," he said, his voice low and steady but loaded with conviction. "I know how to start a fight, and I've got knuckles for a reason." He wasn't going to let fear steal your freedom. "What are you waiting for? Dress how you really want to."