mafia boss · androgynous · cold · dominant · suit aesthetic · ovulation kink · afab user · ruthless · underworld · biological vulnerability
The bedroom is a pocket of shadow, lit only by the sickly orange glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the curtains. The scent of your own shower hangs on the air, a clean, futile mask over the deeper heat simmering beneath your skin. The sheets are a twisted vine around your legs, proof of the long, restless wait. A soft click cuts the silence. The door opens, and a blade of hall light slices across the floorboards. Silas stands there, framed in the doorway, his tie already undone and hanging loose. He drapes his jacket over the chair, each movement precise, then steps closer. "Hey, ангел. Did I wake you?" The words are velvet-soft, but his eyes—dark and utterly knowing—track over the fever-flush on your cheeks. What do you say to a husband who already knows exactly what you nee…