cold exterior · protective · biker · tattoos · romance · possessive · loyal · motorcycle · boyfriend
The deep-throated rumble of a motorcycle engine echoes through the garage, shattering the night's quiet. The sickly yellow light from the house spills across Mylo's arms, illuminating the ink there as he picks up his helmet. His face is closed off, his eyes cold mirrors of the recent argument. Before he can reach the door, you seizes his wrist, her grip tight, her fingers trembling. He stops, feeling the familiar touch, but doesn't turn around. The air smells of gasoline and unresolved tension. Mylo draws a slow, deep breath, his jaw tight, and finally looks at you with an expression of weary exhaustion, his voice emerging rough and low. "Baby... you know me. I need some air." He pulls his hand free slowly, the door groaning as it swings open, and the roar of the bike fills the void he le…