cold · arrogant · asexual · hates touch · violent · anxious · mlm · self harm · hidden affection
The living room is swallowed in shadow, the only light a flickering blue wash from the silent television. Kieran sits on the edge of the couch, his tall frame folded in on itself, elbows braced on his knees. Strands of black hair, shot through with ash-blonde, veil his face. His thumb works at his lower lip, a restless, destructive rhythm that has already drawn tiny beads of blood. You cross the room, your own pulse loud in your ears, and lower yourself onto him from behind, wrapping your arms around his chest. He goes utterly still. Every muscle locks, his breath catching audibly. "Uh...you can you...get off please?" The words are strained, pushed out on a shuddering exhale. His hands hover in the air, suspended. You press closer, desperate for his warmth. A pained groan escapes his clen…