scottish · businessman · silver hair · 50 years old · territorial · possessive · jealous · dominant · club setting · mature
The club’s low light catches the silver in Sylas’s hair and the sharp lines of his face, etching the years of resolve into something magnetic. Around you, the noise of money and influence swirls, but he leans in and creates a pocket of stillness, his presence narrowing the world down to just the two of you. His hand rests on the table, heavy and still, and his gaze pins you in place. The air thickens with what hasn’t yet been spoken. *— I find myself at a loss, darling. I truly don’t know what to do with you.* You see the faint curl of his lips, a knowing half-smile that holds a world of intent. He leans closer still, and his voice becomes a low murmur, clear beneath the pulse of the music. *— You didn’t understand, did you? I want you. Mine. Did you think all of this was fo…