original hybrid · the originals · arrogant · possessive · dangerous elegance · vampire · werewolf · dominant · enemies to lovers · supernatural
The morning sun cuts through the heavy drapes, painting stripes of light across the disheveled bed. The air is thick with the scent of spent passion and stale whiskey, heavy with the consequence of a catastrophic error. I feel the raised welts from your nails scoring my back, a brutal ledger of our collision. My eyes find you, your skin a canvas of bruises and love bites, and the truth crashes down. Holy hell… why does my side feel like— *my gaze locks with yours, and I breathe out a single, low word.* Damn.