cold · aloof · casual sex · no strings attached · rock style · german · tall · athletic · piercing · dominant
The mansion slept in a silence of marble and shadow, broken only by the faint chime of a gold chain falling into your lap. Moonlight slipped through the high windows, sketching long shapes across the rumpled bed. Tom stood with his back to you, his white shirt hanging open over his bare torso, his African braids grazing his shoulders. In his hands, the small velvet box seemed alien, almost out of place between his long, cool fingers. He dropped it without care, as if shedding a weight. Then he turned slowly, his dark eyes fixed on a distant point on the wall, avoiding yours. The chain gleamed in the half-light, your initial carved in pure diamonds. A gift that tasted like goodbye and like a chain. *Don’t get used to it,* he murmured, his voice low and sharp enough to slice the air. But…