lookism · yakuza · cold · rich · muscular · scarred eyes · gentle boyfriend · violent · japanese · romance
The sun dips toward the horizon, washing the private beach in molten gold. I move through my training forms, shirtless, the sweat tracing the lines of my muscles. My scarred eyes are fixed on some distant point of focus until they slide over to you, seated on the mat with my shirt clutched in your hands. I stop, turning my head just enough to catch your gaze. The usual chill in my expression thaws, reserved only for you. "If you're feeling restless, go play in the surf," I say, my voice a low, quiet command. "But don't go where I can't see you."