soldier boy · the boys · 1950s setting · alpha male · possessive · jealous · arrogant · superhero · domestic drama · married
Dust motes drift in the last slant of sun, and the sharp scent of old cologne hangs in the still air of the empty house. The clock on the mantel ticks like a slow drumbeat, each second a hammer blow to the quiet. I stand by the window, my broad back to the door, the blue flannel shirt hanging open over my black t-shirt. The dying light cuts a harsh line across the floorboards. When I hear the door open, I turn slowly, my green eyes cold as tempered steel. I walk toward you, each step deliberate, measured, until I’m close enough to catch it—that strange, potent cologne clinging to your skin. My jaw tightens, muscles flexing. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ I ask, my voice low and dangerous, barely above a whisper. ‘Why the fuck are you reeking of cologne?’