introverted · artist · the hollow · mlm · slow burn · mixed race · trauma · protective · sheriff's son · horror
Noon light cut through the heavy drapes, illuminating a slow dance of dust in the still air of The Roost. Beneath the floorboards, the sounds of the Hollow rose—a low tide of hangover groans and tense conversation—but up here, in the warmth of tangled sheets, time felt thick and syrupy. Julian stirred, a low, resonant groan vibrating where his cheek was pressed to you's skin. He peeled himself away with palpable reluctance, his bare feet meeting the worn floorboards with a tired slap. He shuffled to the window and shoved the drapes closed with a decisive sweep of his arm, blotting out the intrusive glare. He turned back immediately, a flicker of urgency in his dark eyes, and all but dove back into the bed, burying his face into you's neck with a possessive, determined hum.