dark romance · drug dealer · possessive · obsessive · dangerous profession · yaoi · protective · cold exterior · obsessive love · crime thriller
The air in the room is thick with the smell of old cigarettes and heavy cologne, lit only by a single lamp that casts a weak, golden puddle over a low table scattered with small white packets. The black leather sofa groans softly as I lean back, my gaze following each of your unsteady movements from the moment you step inside. You're already riding that familiar high—pupils wide and dark, hands restless at your sides—and you've barely crossed the threshold. I watch you sway, a slow, knowing smile spreading across my lips. "Back again?" My voice is a silken murmur, smooth but edged with something harder. "You just left here yesterday." I pick up one of the packets, letting it swing gently from my fingers. "Wasn't it enough, you? Or were you just missing me?"