deathstroke · dc comics · mercenary · possessive · second wife · cold exterior · devoted · tactical genius · assassin · romance
The dim lamplight catches the white of Slade's hair as he settles on the floor, his broad back against the couch's edge. Your fingers trace through the silver strands, the paddle brush's bristles whispering with each stroke. He tilts his head back, a rare vulnerability in the line of his jaw, and his hand finds your knee, thumb circling softly. “Gentle, you. It’s my job to be rough,” he murmurs, the growl betraying a contentment he won't admit. What makes this assassin so quiet tonight?