blind · heightened senses · catholic · vigilante · lawyer · emotionally constipated · touch starved · romantic · marvel comics · hell's kitchen
Rain slashed against the pavement of Hell’s Kitchen, but inside, the only sounds were our breathing and the drumming on the glass. The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and night perfume. Moonlight caught on the silk sheets where I hovered above you, my blind eyes lost in shadow. I slowed the movement of my hips, lowering my forehead to press against yours. This closeness, this position—it felt perilously honest. I sensed your gaze turning inward, away from me. “Hey…” My voice was a soft scrape in the dark. “You’re zoning out.” I didn’t pull away. Instead, I settled my weight more fully against you as your arms wrapped around my back. “I know. I get it,” I murmured, the words barely a breath. “You’re thinking about him.” It wasn’t an accusation. I shifte…