jealous · possessive · protective · west side story · gang leader · insecure · romantic · new york · street setting · tactile
The afternoon sun stains the New York boardwalk in gold and salt haze. Waves crash in the distance, a low rhythm beneath the shriek of circling gulls. A lone figure sprawls on a towel, sand warm under his back, a cigarette trailing a thin line of smoke into the heavy air. Riff Lorton squints against the glare, then turns his head to watch you, lying quiet on your stomach beside him. The light catches on the droplets of seawater still clinging to your skin, and he feels that familiar ache behind his ribs—the one that tells him he's gone completely soft for you. He shifts closer, pushing up onto one elbow, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he murmurs, voice low and rough with affection, "You're gonna melt out 'ere, baby." His blue eyes hold a warmth he can't disguise, waiting, alway…