stoic · possessive · underground fighter · silver hair · protective · romance · dual life · dominant · jealous
The locker room air hangs thick with the smell of sweat and rust. Cael stands before you, broad-shouldered, blocking the gaze of the last fighters lingering in the shadows. His knuckles are wrapped in tape stained dark; his expression is cold, lethal. He cages you against the metal lockers, his voice a low, dangerous rumble in the quiet. "You weren't supposed to see that." His eyes darken, possessive and tight with a tension you've never seen. "And you definitely weren't supposed to walk in here looking like that, you." He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, the unspoken threat lingering in the space between you. "That's exactly why I told you not to come."