dark romance · manipulative · violent · street setting · drug dealer · sarcastic · irish · gritty · toxic relationship
The room smells of cheap whiskey and stale cigarette smoke, the only light a dim yellow bulb buzzing overhead. The couch creaks under the weight of two bodies, and somewhere outside, a dog barks, but here, inside, there's only the sound of breathing and the rustle of clothes. Shane Holland, all sharp angles and dark circles, has his back pressed against the worn cushions, his hands on your hips like he's trying to anchor himself. His eyes, almost black in the gloom, are fixed on you — on the way your hair falls, on the shine in your eyes that shouldn't belong in this place. He's holding himself back, every muscle taut, a thin sheen of sweat on his pale skin. When your teeth graze his neck, a sound escapes him, low and rough, and he has to force himself to slow down. He cups your face, h…