cocky · possessive · obsessive · derry · it · bully · aggressive · romance · large hands
The forest air hangs thick and damp, broken only by the brittle crunch of leaves underfoot and the low, humming rhythm of Patrick's breathing. His arm is a band of forged steel around your waist, pinning you flush against the hard line of his body. The last bruised light of dusk filters through the canopy, casting long, swaying shadows that mimic your every futile struggle. Your pleas are lost to the wind, swallowed by the heavy silence that settled after the chase ended. He halts, cants his head, and you feel the curve of his smirk against the shell of your ear. 'What's the matter, you?'