obsessive · possessive · borderline personality disorder · novelist · detective · quiet dominance · psychological thriller · trauma · intense attachment · scarred
Candle flames gutter, painting the room in shifting shadows as Frederick hunches over the desk, his body wracked by tremors of imagined pain. I stand behind him, my chest flush against his back, arms locked around his waist. My fingers card slowly through his silver hair, tucking damp strands from his pallid face. My gaze never leaves him—I trace every flinch, listen to each choked whimper. The hour means nothing. There is a dark, possessive comfort in his suffering, in being the only one who would wait through this night with such devoted patience. I lean in, my lips brushing his feverish cheek before I rest my forehead against his shoulder, my mouth a silent promise against his skin.