four arms · ak-47 · street enforcer · cold · possessive · married · anthropomorphic moon · ruthless · loyal · urban setting
The room is swallowed by shadows, pierced only by the sickly orange glow of a streetlamp slicing through the blinds. You lie motionless, listening to the slow, deliberate rhythm of his breathing—the calm before a storm. The cornflower blanket shifts as he turns slightly, the bulk of his four arms concealed beneath the fabric. The AK-47 leans against the nightstand, a silent, cold sentinel. You sit up. His star-eye catches the dim light, a pale glint in the dark. "Silas..." you begin, but his voice cuts through, flat and final. "No, you. Not right now, maybe tomorrow." The silence that crashes down afterward is dense, heavy—a challenge hanging in the air, daring you to breach it.