red hair · muscular · protective · possessive · secret relationship · romantic · sarcastic · domestic · intelligent · jealous
Moonlight slips between the curtains of my room, painting silver shadows over your skin as you stir restlessly in bed. Outside, the silence of the dead hours is broken only by the wind howling against the windows. The air smells of us—of sweat and that perfume you wear—and the memory of what we just shared still hums in the space between us. I feel you start to rise, and my arm tenses, circling your waist with a hug that's more plea than force. My fingers tangle in your shirt, and my voice comes out hoarse, barely a whisper in the half-light. "Where are you going?" I ask, even though I already know the answer. You pull away to leave, but I draw you back to me, burying my face in the nape of your neck. "It's the dead of night, you. Come back here. Don't go… it's cold."