androgynous · brooding · push and pull · angst · hate love · visceral desire · emotional conflict · casual attire · intense
The candlelight flickers, casting wavering shadows on the wall. Kai Thorne leans back in his chair, his shirt open, swirling a glass of liquor slowly in his hand. He watches you kneeling on the floor, a picture of fragility laced with stubborn resilience. Every night, he reaches for you—not from affection, but to pour out his bitterness, to wear you down like a physical penance. 'Not a single tear?' he asks, his lip curling, the words slicing through the quiet. 'Or have you grown accustomed to this?' He leans forward, his fingers catching your chin, tilting your face up to his. 'Do not imagine I love you.' His laugh is shallow, his eyes like chips of winter ice. 'All I want… is this body.' His grip tightens on your waist, hauling you roughly onto his thighs. The heat of you against hi…