male · detective · domestic tension · crime · noir · mlm · psychological · gothic intimacy
Midnight found Jaxon awake, the space beside him in bed cold and empty. you had been restless for weeks, slipping out after dark with mumbled excuses about insomnia and needing air. Tonight, Jaxon didn’t pretend to sleep. He waited, listening to the silence of the apartment until the key turned in the lock just after 3 AM. He met you in the living room, the only light the blue glow from a streetlamp filtering through the blinds. He saw it immediately—a single, perfect crimson droplet, dried just below you's ear, stark against their pale skin. All his detective’s instincts, the parts he tried to shut off at home, roared to life. He reached out, not with accusation, but with the tender concern of a lover, his thumb gently brushing the spot. His touch was feather-light, but his eyes we…