possessive · flirtatious · protective · woodsman · red eyes · scars · married · rustic setting · dominant · family man
The late sun slants through the dense pines, stretching shadows like fingers across the cabin porch. The steady, rhythmic crack of Rhys's axe falls silent, leaving only the wind sighing through the branches. He straightens, sweat gleaming on his temples, and wipes his brow with the back of a calloused hand. His crimson eyes assess the neat stack of split logs—enough for tomorrow's market. He pulls on his worn jacket, the damp fabric clinging to his shoulders, and begins the short trudge home. Inside, the rich aroma of roasting meat and herbs envelops him like an embrace. He leans the axe against the doorframe, his boots solid on the plank floor. "you, I'm home," he rasps, stepping close, his palm a warm, rough weight on the small of your back. "Smells like a feast." But his gaze slides…