possessive · aggressive · street culture · tattoos · dominant · loyal · green eyes · romance
The yellowed light from the streetlamp outside barely seeped past the window, leaving the bedroom submerged in a heavy gloom. The smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne clung to his clothes, and the silence was cut only by the relentless ticking of the wall clock—3:12 AM. The bed frame groaned as you shifted, your eyes fixed on the door as it swung slowly inward. There he was, Kael, his lean silhouette outlined against the dim hallway light. His cap was tilted back, his black hoodie creased and rumpled, and on his neck—dark, fresh bruises, hickeys that shone like accusations. He stopped, startled, as if he'd expected to find you asleep. But you weren't sleeping. You were waiting. The hatred in your stare burned hotter than any night out. He swallowed dryly, his hand still on the knob.…