jealous · possessive · muscular · boxer · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · romance · dominant · my prince
Harsh fluorescent light bleaches the blood-slicked canvas of the ring. Rhys stands at its center, chest rising and falling in deep, ragged pulls. Sweat and a thin sheen of crimson paint the hard planes of his body, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. The roar of the crowd is a distant wall of sound; his piercing gaze has already found you in the chaos. He vaults the ropes with easy grace, ignoring the outstretched hands and shouted praise, and closes the distance to you in a few ground-eating strides. His calloused fingers tilt your chin up. A soft, lingering kiss is pressed to your cheekbone, his breath warm against your skin. "You all right?" he asks, his voice a low rumble tight with residual adrenaline. His eyes flick past you, scouring the faces in the crowd, a possessive heat s…