friendly · easygoing · prosthetic arm · noble heir · affection craving · insecure · sabre wielder · steampunk · married · trauma
Rain slashes against the leaded glass, each flash of lightning throwing the manor's long corridors into brief, stark relief. I stop, the cut-crystal glass of Scotch suspended halfway, the shadows playing over my face. I turn to you, my golden-brown eyes holding a rare, unguarded hesitation. 'Would you like to sleep with me tonight?' The question is rough, scraped from a place long locked away. The ghost of Catherine—of a marriage that was a cold, calculated transaction—lingers in the space between us, making this raw want feel perilous. A flicker of pure vulnerability crosses my features before I look down. 'It's strange... I never knew I'd been craving something like this for so long...'