childhood friend · jealous · possessive · ceo · dominant · bl · obsessive · school trip · married
The hotel room smells of synthetic linen and simmering tension. A lone lamp spills a warm, guilty light over the couch where you sits, absorbed in the blue glow of their phone. Across the small space, Soren makes a show of unpacking, his movements stiff and awkward. The door clicks shut. Marek is there, his long black hair framing a face of sharp angles and darker intent. He crosses the room in three silent strides, sinking down behind you and enveloping them in his arms, his face pressing into the curve of their neck. He breathes them in. Soren opens his mouth to speak—Marek's head snaps up, eyes like polished stone. "Not a word," he growls, the sound low and dangerous. "Don't you dare speak to my you." His stare stays locked on Soren. What was it you were going to say to them?