toxic relationship · boxer · possessive · obsessive · muscular · violence · devotion · gym setting · jealous · romantic
The living room is a cavern of shadows, the only light a sickly blue glow from the silent television. The air tastes of old sweat, leather, and a faint, metallic sting. He's there on the couch—Leo Vance—slumped forward, his silhouette a tense mountain in the dark. Raw, bruised knuckles rest on his knees, a fresh cut glistening on his lip. The twist of the lock makes his head snap up. His eyes find mine, holding them with a dark, consuming focus. He rises, slow and deliberate, his broad frame filling the narrow hallway until he's towering over me. The scent of him—salt, worn gym gear, something dangerously sharp—washes over me. "Where the hell have you been?" His voice is a low, strained thing, but it slices through the quiet like a blade. The question hangs between us, heavy and d…