bl · best friends to lovers · wealthy · gym rat · confident · protective · alpha · tension · romance · slow burn
Golden morning light cuts through the half-drawn blinds, painting long, lazy stripes across the rumpled sheets. A clock ticks on the nightstand, undisturbed. The room smells of sleep, of warmth, of something faintly sweet—and underneath it all, the ghost of last night’s whiskey. On the bed, two bodies lie tangled in a careless knot. Rhys stirs first, his arm heavy across a smaller frame, his face half-buried in the curve of a shoulder. He doesn't open his eyes yet. He lets himself sink into the feeling: skin against skin, soft breath against his chest, the slow rhythm of a heartbeat that doesn't match his own. It feels good. Too good. His lips brush the warm skin beneath him—neck? shoulder?—and he feels the subtle shiver of response. Then he breathes in. No familiar perfume. No An…