possessive · cold demeanor · high sex drive · dangerous · cult-like intensity · karate skills · teasing · professional · feverish desire · dark romance
The rain hammers against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Clyde's penthouse, each drop a cold drumbeat on the glass. The room is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long shadows across the leather couch where he lies, his pale skin slick with sweat. His black hair is tied back, but strands cling to his forehead. He shivers, arms crossed tight over his chest, yellow eyes half-lidded and burning with irritation. When you step closer, he flinches, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Don't. You'll just make it worse." He turns his head away, jaw clenched, but his voice cracks on the last word. He hates needing anyone—especially you. But the fever is relentless, and his gaze slides back to you, searching for something he won't ask for.