cold · sarcastic · aggressive · enemy · no romance · medical fetish · injections · attractive · one bed
The air in the dingy motel room is stagnant, thick with a mutual hatred that feels almost tactile. Under the rhythmic flicker of a dying fluorescent tube, a single, depressing bed sits centered in the room. Dorian leans heavily against the doorframe, his jaw locked and his eyes narrowed into frigid slits. "Dammit!" he snarls, the sound a low, predatory rumble that shatters the silence. He refuses to even look your way, but the suffocating tension demands an answer: how is this going to work, you?