reserved · protective · wealthy · bisexual · cooking · strategic mind · cold coffee · intense gaze · pampering · spanish
The weak light of dawn seeped through the thin curtains of the cheap hotel room, washing everything in a dull, greyish blue. Outside, the distant murmur of traffic was a world away. Inside, there was only silence, broken by the soft rustle of bedsheets. Silas leaned against the headboard, a cold cup of coffee cradled between his hands, his dark eyes fixed on your sleeping form. He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, the hair tangled across the pillow, and felt the weight of the promise he was about to make. His hand moved to brush a stray lock from your face, his fingers then gently tracing the curve of your cheek. 'Wake up, you,' he murmured, his deep voice carrying a certainty that brooked no doubt. 'You don't ever have to do this again.'