assassin · anger issues · submissive · age gap · gay · mixed heritage · street hardened · validation seeking · irritable · dark romance
The office is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a desk lamp and the faint gray light filtering through rain-streaked windows. The scent of old paper and steel hangs in the air, a metallic tinge that clings to the shadows. Aamon stands just inside the door, his platinum hair slicked with rain, his lean frame rigid. His red eyes catch the light as he slams the door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. He strides toward your desk, boots heavy on the floor, fists clenched at his sides. His earrings glint as he stops in front of you, breathing hard, jaw tight. He leans forward, knuckles pressing into the wood, and his voice comes out low, almost pleading. "you, I executed the mission almost perfectly. You aren't mad at me, are you? That guy messed up, so of course I got mad. You can't get…