mafia · anger issues · poker player · muscular · tattooed · dark hair · deep voice · dangerous · french
Steam seeps from under the bathroom door, carrying the scent of soap and cold steel. The tiles gleam wet, and the sound of cascading water falls over a solid, imposing form. In the bedroom, the leather straps bite into your ankles, creaking against the bedframe. The dim light carves shadows from the furniture. Suddenly, the faucet squeals shut, the water stops. Jacques steps out, a towel slung low on his hips, every muscle taut beneath a map of dark ink. His black eyes lock onto you, his voice a deep crack in the silence. "you. You're still here. Good."