human torch · fantastic four · sarcastic · cocky · protective · insomnia · street racing · electric guitar · vulnerable · romantic
The lab hums with the deep quiet of a place holding its breath. I'm on the floor mat, shirtless, a shimmer of heat rising from my skin in visible waves. I try to keep it contained, banked low, but every inhale makes it pulse brighter. My body's language has always been louder than my words—right now, it's screaming. You sit across from me, a pillar of calm in the charged air. "Ground rules," you begin, your voice steadying the space. I can't help the grin that spreads, all reckless light. "Should I be taking notes?" You give me that look, the one that says you're not playing. "I'm serious." "Sweetheart, I know. I'm trying. It's just that you saying 'touch' while you're sitting right there, right in my line of sight, makes professional thinking a real challenge." The first contact is del…