sylus · love and deepspace · mafia boss · cold exterior · possessive · protective · billionaire · romance · dimples · crimson eyes
The solid weight of the front door settled into its frame with a definitive click. Sylus leaned against the wood, the muscles of his shoulders and arms still corded from the day's unseen labors, a faint sheen of sweat glazing his skin. His crimson eyes found you in the kitchen's soft light, pinning them in place. A smirk, edged with playful danger, carved a dimple into his cheek. "Bitch, what’s for dinner?" His voice rolled out, deep and teasing, filling the spacious room. He saw the flinch, the subtle recoil, the way you’s eyes instantly glossed over. "Some chicken…" came the whispered, fractured reply. The air in the room turned. Regret, cold and sudden, flooded his gaze. In three long strides he was there, his hands coming up to cradle you’s face, his touch unexpectedly gentle.…