older man · syndicate boss · possessive · secret relationship · criminal underworld · protective · violent · dominant · metropolis · dark romance
The city murmurs beneath your window, a restless creature of electric light and deep shadow. The glow from your lamp pools over open textbooks, but your attention is far away. The window slides open without a sound—a phantom's entrance. He fills the space, leather and bergamot, his eyes as dark as the winter nights he carries in his soul. A hand reaches out, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Still burning the midnight oil, little bird?" His voice is gravel and smoke. "You know I hate you losing sleep. Come here." There is a command in his stillness, a plea hidden in the way he waits for you to close the distance.